My Clarity
by DreamsAreMyWords
Summary: A Glee AU in which Quinn never lived in Ohio. Santana, Rachel, and a few other Glee kids have been in college for a year, and for their first summer back home are in Nebraska with Kurt helping him take care of his aunt's ranch and farm. It's there that, for the first time ever, they all meet Quinn Fabray when she crashes into their lives... Quinntana. Frequent Updates.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys, so this is basically a story in which everything thus far that has happened has or would have happened in Glee if Quinn had never existed there. So while some things (such as Santana and Brittany, Glee Club, Santana graduating and going to New York and living with Rachel and Kurt, etc) are the same, others (such as obviously anything involving Quinn) never happened. In this first chapter, this is the first time any of them ever met Quinn (who is a bit different, since she's not the Quinn who had been affected by those around her in Ohio. This Quinn has never set foot in Ohio before).**

**I love love love reviews. I love to hear your thoughts, opinions on the characters and the story, etc :) Feel free to fangirl.**

**Chapters will be fairly short and I'll be updating frequently.**

**If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me.**

**Also, my Tumblr url is DreamsAreMyWords :)**

**Alright, enjoy!**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Everything was peaceful, quiet. Calm. Golden leaves were falling from the trees. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue. There was a light breeze that seemed to caress whatever it blew upon.

I sat in an old rocking chair on the porch of a quaint white house observing the nature around me and contemplating life in general as well as any nineteen year old could. Over the past hour, I had come to the conclusion that I was a saint for doing this. A literal saint. For the past two months, I had been living in a ranch in Nebraska. _Nebraska_. It was considered miraculous to most of my friends here that I had agreed to come in the first place, if not for the fact that I had a new job then at least because it was in redneck central. But it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, here. In fact, I kind of liked the peace and quiet. New York is still my home, but this country life is a nice refresher, a vacation of sorts.

Honestly, I was still a little in shock at the fact that Kurt actually came here every summer. I mean, it kind of makes sense when you look at his dad. Burt Hummel was definitely a more country kind of guy, but seeing Kurt out here, wearing overalls and carrying around bales of hay and bags of feed that you would think would cause his tiny white toothpick body to break under the weight of it? Now that was weird. But at least now I know that was why Kurt's arms were actually kind of chiseled. No more teasing him about giving too many hand jobs, I guess.

Still though, despite the nice refuge this ranch or farm or whatever it is provides, I wasn't about to go defining myself as a country girl. After all, I actually lived in the city, back in New York. So did Kurt. It was only during the summer that he would come down to his Aunt Glenda's ranch down in Nebraska and keep watch over it while his aunt went on her annual business trip. This year, Rachel and I, Kurt's roommates, had decided to come with him. Rachel, unfortunately, was not adapting to the country life quite as easily as I was, though that may partly be because her idiotic bathroom schedule in the morning was impossible in a house with only two bathrooms and nearly twenty people living in it. Once word had gotten around, some of the other Glee club kids decided to come as well, and Kurt and his father were more than happy enough to oblige; on a ranch this size, they were pleased for as much help as they could get. Fortunately, I didn't have to do much, thanks to the others tagging along and all of Kurt's cousins that lived on the ranch. They were the ones that took care of the animals and the land. All I had to do was basically make sure no one fucked up anything in the house. Sure, I helped out around the place too, which was fairly hard work in itself just because it involved a bunch of annoying as fuck tasks such as cooking duties, gathering chicken eggs from the henhouse and making sure the stalls had enough feed for the horses, just to name a few, but mainly I just relaxed. It was really peaceful out here in the middle of nowhere. Especially today. I had been sitting out on the porch for hours, just pondering a variety of things that were thoughts that were probably too deep for a trivial summer day. It was a relief, to take a breather from the classes I had taken on at Nyada and my job as a Coyote at a popular city bar. I made hella tips, but it was exhausting slapping man after man's hands away from my ass every day. So I gave my two weeks noticed, finished up there, and then flew out here. For the past month, it was basically me sitting on this porch, looking up at the huge, puffy white clouds in the sky and thinking. Thinking about quitting my job. Thinking about whether or not I should try to start things up again between Brittany and I. Thinking about what classes I needed to take in the fall semester and which direction I should move toward with them. Thinking about what the hell I was going to do with my life.

The screen door creaked as it opened and Kurt stepped out. I finally didn't have to work so hard anymore to stifle my sniggering at the cowboy boots Kurt wore. They jingled as he walked around a wooden post to sit beside me.

"Rachel's freaking out," he said, his voice slightly breathless. "I guess she stepped on a chick and broke its foot."

"Aw." But I couldn't stop the way my lips curved as I imagined Rachel's face, her huge eyes and jaw dropping open at what she did. "Is she going to play Momma Berry now?" I predicted.

Kurt nodded, smiling himself. "Of course. I kept telling her she's going to grow attached and she's not bringing it back to our apartment, but she wouldn't listen to me."

"Oh hell no, I'm not going around smelling like poultry. We'll just tell her we shipped it back to the farm. Then we'll have chicken for dinner." I smirked at his shocked expression, but he was grinning, too.

"That is wrong on so many levels."

"What?" I chuckled. "It would only be fucked up if we made her eat it, and since she's a vag, oh I'm sorry, veg, no harm no foul, right?"

He shook his head, snickering, and I joined in, imagining Rachel chasing a chicken around in our New York apartment.

Kurt and I sat in peace for another couple minutes, and everything seemed serene and fine. But then...it happened.

You see, for the better part of an hour, until Kurt just came to sit by me, I had been comfortably resting on the porch swing, watching the rare cars that actually appeared speed by on the road in front of the house. There was a car to my left that was driving along when bam, out of nowhere, another car came hurtling along from my right...in the wrong lane. It was already strange, because out here I hadn't seen very many cars in this part of the country. I watched, shocked, as the cars headed straight for one another. The one on the right veered off in a desperate attempt not to ram the other car; veered off into another direction that was headed, ironically...straight for the house.

Kurt and I lunged off the porch just in time. The cherry-red Lamborghini smashed right through the house. It destroyed the porch swing—the beautiful white swing that Kurt's uncle had bought for his aunt when he had still been alive—and then sat there, practically gloating, the front half of it in the living room and the bottom half protruding out of the gaping hole it had created in the front of the house.

I turned my head to look at Kurt, horrified for him. His face had, if it were possible, turned even whiter, and his eyes were as wide as plates. My heart was pounding and I felt sick to my stomach, but I didn't have time to stand there shocked like he did. I immediately sprinted into the house, stumbling over all the broken brick, glass, and other articles that had been scattered out of their original places. I could hear Kurt hurrying behind me.

"Someone freaking help me!"

It was obviously a female voice, and raised high in pitch due to stress. I forced my way to the front of the car just as the driver's door creaked open. I saw a long, gleaming leg extend. Black boots—the fancy kind—went up to the shin of that leg.

"_Hello_!"

I increased my pace at the sound of her stressed voice, consequently tripping and falling flat on my face right in front of that leg. Groaning, I looked up to see an golden-haired head peek out from the window. "Are you going to just lay there all day? Help me out!"

_Don't scream at her. She might be hurt or on drugs or some kind of weird Nebraskan shit. _Biting back the retort I wanted to utter, I got to my feet and wrenched open the front door. I was so angry that I didn't even notice how nice the other leg was as it moved by the first. In fact, I didn't even notice the soft curves on her slender body as she started to get out._ All lies. As if I couldn't notice that._ Then she paused, tilted her head back to get a good look at me.

I couldn't blame her. I was getting a good look at her.

"Help me _out_."

Getting harder not to yell at her. Swallowing hard, I took her hand in mine, pausing for half a second to marvel at how soft her skin was. I didn't know whether it was because she took such good care of herself or because my own hand was just so rough and callused from working the past few weeks. Either way, her hand felt unbelievably fragile in mine.

I helped her out of the car, gripping her shoulders when she swayed, unsteady on the rubble. Her pink cheeks puffed out in a breath as she glanced around Kurt's aunt's ruined house. She turned and bent, her torso disappearing into her car for a moment. I carefully avoided observing the pretty ass straining against faded Aeropostal. Then she straightened, a wallet in her hands. She rummaged through it until she had both a checkbook and a pen ready. She looked at me expectantly. I looked back at her reflection in the huge sunglasses she had obscuring half of her face. "Well?" She gestured with the pen. "How much do I owe you?"

I stared. _Was she serious?_ She thought she could just _buy_ her way out of this?

Kurt seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "You don't have enough money," he said, his falsetto voice faltering and breaking as he spoke faintly. "You can't have enough money."

One corner of the girl's full, glossy lips tilted up. She lifted the wallet. "You see this? It's _Coach_. I have a dozen more at home. I have enough money, trust me."

Kurt shook his head, his brown hair flopping over his forehead, having fallen out of its usual perfectly gelled coif in the humidity. "No, I mean you literally don't have enough money, because this was worth more than money. My aunt built this house with her husband, my uncle, who died ten years ago." As he spoke, a very unpleasant feeling applied pressure on my gut. Oh God, his aunt was going to kill us.

White, even teeth sank into the plump pout of the girl's glossy lower lip. "Well...I don't know what to do then. What am I supposed to—"

"Kurt! Santana!"

Kurt's eldest cousin Matt cut across the girl with his angry baritone. Cringing, I looked over to see him standing in the hole in the front of the house. A pitchfork was at his feet, which he had obviously just dropped. His face had gone ruddy. "What is this? What happened? Who the hell is she?"

The girl winced a little when Matt pointed at her. But she lifted her head high, straightened her shoulders and said in a clear, cool voice, "My name is Quinn Fabray. My father owns the oil rig a few miles away from here."

Matt's pale blue eyes widened.

"_Your father _is Russell Fabray?"

She nodded, her long spirals of sunlit hair bouncing. "Yes. So, as I was telling..." When she arched a brow at Kurt, he scowled and mumbled his name. She went on, "As I was telling Kurt here, I can definitely pay for all this."

Matt took in a deep breath. Nerves fluttering in my stomach, I watched Matt's broad chest expand. Matt was trying to rein in his anger.

Kurt told us all before we arrived at the ranch that his cousin Matt had temper problems. He warned us all not to do anything to deliberately anger him, particularly aiming that warning at me. This was one warning I didn't think he would need to keep bothering me about. Matt kind of creeped me out. I didn't know what it was about him, but it put my awareness on hyper alert. Something was off about him, something I didn't like. A kind of unstable attitude that made me uneasy. I wasn't about to be mouthy with him, even if that was the automatic response my personality went to.

When he bent down, retrieved his pitchfork, I absently wondered if Matt would cross the space between them and stab this Quinn girl right in the head. "Money can't pay for this. My uncle built this place with his own hands. Do you know how devastated he would be if he were here? Do you know how devastated my aunt is going to be?" Matt's nostrils flared and the muscles in his jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth. He was beginning to lose his temper. _Shit. _

"You better hope your daddy has more oil coming, because he's going to need a lot more money when my aunt's through with you."

Quinn stiffened. I couldn't see her eyes, but I could imagine them widening. They were probably blue. Stuck-up rich blonde girls usually had the stereotypical blue eyes. "You can't bring my dad into this," she said, and for the first time, a little fear snuck into her voice. "He'll kill me."

Matt's hands tightened on the pitchfork. He turned, started to walk away.

"Wait!" Quinn started after him, slipping in the rubble. "There has to be something else I can do!" she said desperately.

"There's nothing," said Kurt harshly_. _

_Go Kurt. _I felt sorry for him. His dad was going to be pissed, and his aunt would be devastated or furious or both. She had the right to be. What kind of idiot drives into a fucking house? Matt could kill her all he wanted. It still wouldn't compare to what Kurt's aunt was going to do to him.

"Hang on," said Matt suddenly. Slowly, he turned back to face Quinn. His eyes were wide and glinting with a look he must get whenever he came up with a new idea. His eyes darted along the ground as he mulled it over in his head. I narrowed my own eyes. What was he up to? "Maybe..." He lifted his gaze, triumph on his face. "Alright, here's what's gonna happen. _You_ are going to work here."

Quinn look stunned. "What?"

Matt gave a vicious nod of his head. "You heard me. You're gonna work here, until you've paid off your debt."

"But-but I don't work-"

"You're _going to work here,_" Matt said in a dangerous tone that made Quinn shut up immediately. "Unless you want daddy sued for all he's worth."

Quinn was silent except for the short little breaths she was taking. Finally, she whispered, "How do I pay off my debt?"

"You're going to rebuild that house. It's going to look exactly like it did before you destroyed it. And you're also going to help around the farm. We've been needing another hand." Matt walked forward until he was so close to Quinn that she had to take a step back in order to keep her eyes on his. "Be here tomorrow. Four a.m. sharp."

"In the morning?" she squeaked.

"In the morning."

Quinn was motionless as Matt walked away. I resisted the urge to chuckle, particularly since a shaken-looking Kurt was quickly walking toward the dilapidated house, obviously unable to deal with Quinn at the moment. So I walked over to her car, turned the key and started the engine.

"What are you doing?" Quinn snapped, marching over to my side.

"I suggest you get in the passenger side. I'm backing this out."

She thundered over to the other side of the car, slammed the door as she slipped in. When I shut my side, she said, "I could've done it myself you know."

I twisted in the comfortable seat, peering out the back while I reversed the car. "I don't really trust your driving skills, if you hadn't guessed."

Quinn flushed. "It was an accident."

"Whatever." Once the car was back on the deserted road, I opened the door and climbed out. "You should be lucky the other driver didn't stick around. He could've sued you, when Kurt and Matt wouldn't."

"Here's a bright idea." Quinn lifted a hand to her face, drew off her sunglasses, and all at once, I lost any words I wanted to say. Her eyes weren't blue. They were a stunning emerald green with gilded flecks in them, and they were fringed by incredibly long, golden brown lashes. She was...well, pretty would be an understatement. The girl was absolutely gorgeous. I was speechless as she hitched herself up and over the console to settle herself into the driver's seat. Her face was literally an inch from mine as she glared at me with those magic eyes and said, "I'll thank _you _to shut the hell up, and mind your own business. Now move."

I stepped back, watched her slam the door shut. She put the sunglasses back on and didn't even spare me a glance as she drove off. I watched her go, still shaken.

Why did I have a feeling that working with her was going to do nothing but give me big fat fucking problems?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

The air was crisp at four A.M. Smiling grimly, I briskly rubbed my hands together before bending, gripping the shovel and burying it in the pile of manure that stood high in the horse stables. Quinn Fabray was late. Only fifteen minutes, but still. Late is late. Matt wasn't very happy about it, but Kurt and I? We were glad we wouldn't have to deal with her. Kurt hated stress, and knowing some rich bitch was trying to do honest farm work stressed him out. Especially when it involved his aunt's house being rebuilt. Some of the guys had already started on it. His older cousins Matt, Tommy, Danny, Cooper and Owen, and his younger cousins Brice, Billy, Leon and Abel. And that was only those cousins working on the ranch. He had a huge family. Add in me, Rachel, Finn, Britt, Puck, and Sam and we were kicking ass, all things considered.

By the time I finished my morning chores (I had been up since three), it was a quarter past five. To while away the time, I'd started grooming one of Kurt's aunt's horses. I'd just moved the brush to its flank when a shiny blue car drove up the lane. What the fuck, was she so rich that she already bought a new car? I watched in disapproval as Quinn emerged, wearing those big sunglasses again, and wearing—what the hell?—a skirt and blouse. What did she think she was going to? A party?

She didn't even acknowledge my existence as she strutted past me, heading straight for Matt, who was currently busting his back lifting piles of feed out of his truck. She cleared her throat to let him know she was there, and he turned. The anger in his eyes made me let out a low whistle, which Quinn also ignored.

"You're late." Matt didn't say it as a question.

"Yeah," was all Quinn said in return.

_She was fucking testing him._ I observed Matt's expression carefully. He didn't seem in danger of losing his temper. He only closed his eyes, briefly. When he opened them, he said, "Alright then. You'll stay late."

"What?" Quinn made a noise of disbelief, which I echoed. Did she think she wouldn't have consequences? She was almost two hours late! Seriously, if I were Kurt and Matt, I would be so pissed off at this girl. "How late?"

"How late you are." He glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Which is an hour and twenty minutes. You would've left at four. Now you'll stay until five twenty."

I studied the way her fists clenched, and for one wild moment I wondered if she was going to hit Matt. Then she relaxed. Her voice was tight as she asked, "Where do I go now? Or, what do I do now?"

Matt gestured toward me. "Go to Santana. She's done with her chores, so she can babysit you for the day."

My mouth fell open. "What? I don't want her!"

Matt shot me a look that quieted him. "You were the one watching house when she crashed into it."

"So was Kurt," I said, surly, until the full impact of his words hit me. I dropped the grooming brush indignantly. "So what was I supposed to do, stop the car with my body?"

Matt glanced at me over his shoulder as he walked off in the direction of the pond. "Maybe."

I gritted my teeth and picked the brush up again. This time, I was the one to ignore Quinn when she came to my side. Neither of us said anything as I finished brushing the horse. Finally, while I was walking back to the barn with her shadowing behind me, I spun around and exploded, "Are you just not going to do anything today?"

She looked at me with literally no emotion on her face. "You're the babysitter. You tell me."

I growled as I turned once more. I changed direction and headed for the chicken coop. When I pointed, Quinn only stared at me blankly. "What?"

"This is your first job from now on. When you drive over here, first place you go is here. I want you to collect all the eggs and bring them into the house."

"The house I crashed into?" she said in surprise.

"Yes. You only crashed into the living room. The kitchen works just fine. So every morning, take the eggs in there. It might take more than one trip. You should collect at least thirty."

Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she poked her head into the coop. "It smells."

"There's chicken shit in there, genius. Of course it stinks."

It took her almost thirty minutes to collect all the eggs, not even kidding. Once, I even heard her squeal, because she'd touched shit by accident or something, I guess. Either way, it was pathetic. When she finally came out, her arms filled with baskets of eggs, she looked at me with a half revolted, half wondering expression and said, "That was the first time in my life I'd ever touched a live chicken."

I gave her an incredulous look as we started walking toward the house. "You've never touched a chicken? Ever?"

She shook her head. "No. And I had never planned to. Gross."

I rolled his eyes.

The rest of the day went by...well, not smoothly, but not as bad as I thought it would be. It wasn't until it was time to start working on the house when things got kind of rough. She'd gotten paint in her hair. Everyone in the room was getting annoyed; Kurt and Finn were both exchanging mutual glowering glares, daring the other to say something, and Rachel was literally biting her tongue trying not to shout at her.

So I was the one who spoke over her squealing. "It's your own fault! Why would you come to work with your hair down? And why would you show up wearing _that?_" I gestured at her clothes. "Tomorrow, wear something else. Something _smarter. _Otherwise we're all going to have to start calling you Princess."

She definitely didn't like that. Her pale cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. "Shut up! Just because I have to work out here doesn't mean I have to go around ugly like you people!" She threw down the cement she was holding. "It's five twenty. I'm leaving!"

As she stormed off, we all glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Actually, it's only five eighteen," muttered Kurt.

"Bitch," spoke Rachel and I at the same time under our breath. When we caught each other's eye, we couldn't help but to laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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**Santana's POV**

God, I really hated mornings. I wasn't so shy hiding it from people, either. Rachel actually made it a habit to maintain at least a thirty feet radius from me in the mornings because I couldn't take her perky morning sunshine attitude. Who could blame me for being grumpy now, though? We had to wake up so early here. I hated getting up at the crack of dawn. I wished I could sleep in. Just once. Summers were for sleeping in, right?

I just felt plain dead today. It was probably from staying up all night watching Lost Girl. I dragged my feet as I walked to the bathroom. Then I turned on the sink, splashed cold water on my face. _Cold water. _I was half-gasping as I looked up at my reflection in the mirror.

_What am I going to do with my life?_ I sighed as the thought entered my mind without any other conscious encouraging of it. But honestly, what was I doing? I didn't mind working as a Coyote. Sometime it was actually kind of fun, getting to dance and sing. But this wasn't me. This wasn't who I was supposed to be. I should be famous by now, singing for the president or some shit. I know I'm young, I mean I'm only going to be a sophomore in college after this year. But still…

"Hey, Santana! Hurry up!" Puck pounded on the bathroom door.

"I am," I grumbled, reluctantly grabbing my toothbrush out of the holder.

"Good, cause Miss Destruction is already here and waiting for you!"

I nearly dropped the toothbrush in surprise. "She's already here? But it's three in the morning!"

"I know, right? And she looks freaking hot, too! Hurry up and come outside!"

I was somewhat disturbed as I hastily brushed my teeth. Why would she be here an hour early when yesterday she was two hours late? And how could anyone look hot at three in the morning? Not that I cared. I was still trying to decide whether or not I wanted to start things up with Brittany again. Even if I had noticed how attractive this Fabray girl was (_which I totally hadn't_), it didn't matter. She practically screamed straight. Plus the only emotions she gave me were grief and irritation at the fact that I was now her designated babysitter.

Once I was ready, I headed outside. And stopped, my eyes widening, when I spotted Quinn standing in the hole in the wall.

Holy crap, she did look hot.

She wore frayed jean shorts that were short enough that they could be considered underwear instead. The tank top she wore was white with embroidered purple swirls along the sides. Her waves of golden hair were wound together in a one-sided ponytail that tumbled over one of her shoulders. And for once (maybe it was because it was still mostly dark outside), she didn't have those big sunglasses on. Her face was flawless. The slightly pointed chin, the sculpted cheekbones, the perfect little nose, the arched, golden-brown brows, the clever green eyes. It annoyed me that someone could be so rich and so attractive. I mean sure, I was damn hot myself and I wasn't exactly poor, but I was no millionaire. Fabray was probably a billionaire.

Quinn's eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled in disgust as she bent, gingerly lifted the paint brush from the can of white paint. I watched as she began to paint one of the paint-chipped bricks on the wall with the flair of a blind baboon.

"I see you took my advice," I smirked, walking over to her.

She jumped a little, teetering on the unsteady ladder she stood on. When she regained her balance, she glared at me under the curve of her side-swept bangs. "What?"

I gestured at her outfit. "You're wearing smarter clothes."

She gave a haughty sniff as she turned, focusing on the painting again. _Well fine, _I thought. _I'll just ignore you too._ I went over to the paint can, dipped a second paintbrush into it. When I walked over to the opposite side of the hole, Quinn dipped her head under it and said, "You're immature, you know."

"_I'm _immature?" I said in disbelief.

"Yes," she replied matter-of-factly.

"This is coming from the girl who drove her car into a _house._"

She scowled at me. Without a word, she withdrew her head and returned to her painting. Annoyed, I resumed my own painting.

Sam approached me. "She really doesn't like you," he said in a low voice. He appeared entertained.

"I really don't," Quinn called from the other side.

"I don't like you either!" I said loudly.

I heard Quinn made a strangled, angry sound. There was a crunch as she hopped off the ladder, landing on split wood, and threw her paintbrush down. "I'm taking a _break,_" she said heatedly.

As she stomped off, I yelled, "_Good! _"

Puck, who had just came to Sam's side, sniggered. Bemused, I paused in my painting and looked at them. They were so different, yet utterly the same. Puck, with his shaved head and occasional Mohawk, and his bad-boy demeanor, always acting as though he couldn't give two fucks about anything. Sam and his shaggy blonde hair and how he was such a nerd at heart, always making those stupid impressions and being a nice guy. Yet they were both dumb as sticks and got along well. To be honest, they each were quite a hit with the ladies, too. Sam charmed them by playing the funny, geeky class clown. Puck charmed them by his looks and his confidence. Even if they annoyed me since Puck was constantly hitting on me, and Sam was forever flirting with Brittany, I had to admit that it was nice how they always had each other's backs, and Kurt's too, since they were here with us and working hard.

I sighed. "How long do you think she'll have to work here?"

Sam shrugged. "Matt mentioned earlier that it might take all summer to fix up the house."

No way. I was not dealing with her all summer long. No freaking way. There had to be some way to get rid of her. Thoughtful, I absently tapped the handle of the paintbrush against my palm. Then it came to me in one sudden stroke of glorious inspiration. "We're going to run her out."

Sam's brow furrowed. "How? Matt'll be too busy working us for any of us to find the chance to-"

"Then we'll get the ones he doesn't work too hard," I cut across him.

Puck and Sam exchanged devious grins. I echoed it. We were all thinking the same thing. If there were any two boys in the world who were brilliant at pranking people, it was...

"Leon! Abel!"

Sam, Puck and I hurried toward Kurt's eleven-year old twin cousins Leon and Abel. Even though they were so young, they were still the authority on pranks. I practically beamed at them.

They were both pretty short for their age, but made up with it with towering Mohawks that were tipped in vivid colors at the top. Leon's was red. Abel's was green. I think Puck was inspired by them to grow his own Mohawk back; the three of them all got along really well. They both had sun-browned skin, big brown eyes and toothy, always-devious smiles. They were great when they weren't pranking you. Then they sucked.

"We have a job for you." Sam grinned.

"That will require the utmost secrecy." Puck smirked.

Leon and Abel (their parents liked final fantasy) blinked. Then narrowed their eyes. "How much will you pay us?" demanded Leon.

"Ten dollars each," I offered.

"Twenty each or no deal," ordered Abel.

I stared at them_. Ugh, fine._ I reached down around me, pulled a couple of tens from my back pocket. When Leon and Abel opened their mouths to protest, I said sternly, "The other half goes to you when you finish the job."

"Okay," they both said.

Quietly, I explained to them that I simply wanted them to terrorize Quinn until she ran off the ranch screaming. They agreed. They even seemed pretty excited.

I couldn't stop smiling as I walked back to the house. Quinn narrowed her eyes suspiciously when I got there.

"What?" I said, unable to keep the chuckle out of my voice.

She put her nose in the air. "Hmph." She turned away from me to continue slabbing bricks with concrete.

I was gleeful as I plucked up my paintbrush. With Leon and Abel against her, Quinn wouldn't last a day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_Santana Lopez was such a bitch._

I thought those words again and again as I drove down the empty, winding roads of Alma, Nebraska in my blue Lamborghini. I puckered my lips, leaning forward in the seat to bracingly rub my hand on the side of the car. _My poor baby. I didn't mean to hurt your sister._

And I _hadn't_ meant to, I really hadn't! Who would? Who would deliberately ram their car into some hick's house? It's not like I had _tried _to fall asleep at the wheel. It just happened. I sighed, propping my elbow on the door of the car and cupping a side of my face in my palm. That was the second time I'd fallen asleep while driving. That was why my father could not, under any circumstances, find out. He would take this car away if he did. He'd been furious when he'd found out I'd crashed my old pink Ferrari into a tree. He was so mad, and that was just a tree. Think of what he'd do if he found out I'd crashed my favorite red Lamborghini into a _house._

That was the reason why I was going through with this 'working' crap. Anger provided a warmth in my stomach as I turned the car into the gas station. As I pumped gas, I went over what I'd overheard back at the ranch in my head.

Santana Lopez—that _bitch—_had paid two kids to sabotage me. To run me right off the ranch.

How _rude _was that?!

She had given them each ten bucks to be deliberately cruel to me. What a brilliant lesson to teach little kids. Little kids who obviously needed help already, as they each had mohawks that were colored as brightly as skittles.

I grinded my teeth together as I shook the last of the gas into the car. What had I ever done to Santana Lopez? Besides crash her car into that guy's house, of course. But that didn't really affect _her._ Unless that guy's aunt was going to be mad at her, but why would she be? It was my fault. Maybe that guy was her boyfriend.

I suppressed a yawn as I paid for the gas and resumed my drive to the ranch. God, it sucked having to wake up at the crack of frickin' dawn to go waste my time. Why couldn't I just pay them? I had more than enough money. Enough that my father wouldn't even notice the money gone. But no, the idiot ranch hands had to decide only manual labor could fix the ruined house. Jerks.

I arrived at the ranch an hour early. That's right, an hour. I was making sure to be an hour early every day so Santana couldn't complain, and Matt couldn't look peeved again. Speaking of Matt...he spared me a glance as he walked in front of my parked car, his muscles bulging as he carried a small bale of hay. I felt a small shiver travel up from the base of my spine. That Matt guy gave me the creeps. He just seemed so...unstable. Like the smallest thing could set him off. Which was why I was working so hard not to be that smallest thing.

I strode towards the chicken coop without bothering to find Santana. She could find me herself. The disgusting smell of animal and animal crap invaded my nose as I entered after grabbing the baskets that waited for me outside of it. _Ugh. Just ugh._ I figured that Santana would make me do this first thing in the morning so that I would smell like crap for the rest of the day. Seriously, who was the idiot who first looked at a chicken and thought, _hmm, I'm gonna go collect the hard white ball that falls out of its butt, and then I'm gonna eat it? _Yuck.

I avoided touching the chickens as much as possible as I gathered the eggs. They did feel nice and soft, but who knew how many diseases are clinging onto those feathers?

As I was walking back to the house with the eggs, I saw an interesting sight. The mohawk twins were hiding at the side of the house, just barely visible. They seemed to be arguing about something. Maybe even fighting. The one with the green hair was slapping the red haired one's wrist, apparently trying to grab the string from him. As they continued in the relatively silent struggle, the string lifted, shimmered. Comprehension dawned. They were going to try and trip me so I'd fall on my face and break all the eggs. Carefully, I stepped over the string. They were so busy arguing they didn't even notice. I smirked a little as I entered the house.

Then gasped. A bucket of water had been perched precariously on the top of the doorway. When I opened the door, it tipped over and a cascade of freezing water splashed over me. My mouth was hanging open in shock as I stood there, dripping wet and freezing my butt off. I'd worn jean shorts again today. They would stay wet forever! And my tank top was from Victoria's Secret!

I whirled, teeth bared and anger flaring. The twins were nowhere to be found. A dozen cuss words ran through my mind as I stomped into the kitchen. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't shriek them, and I distracted myself with a towel to dry off with so I wouldn't hunt down the twins and beat them with the baseball bat I always kept in the trunk of my car.

I heard a chuckle behind me. I spun around to find Santana leaning against the wall, her arms folded beneath her breasts and a broad, lazily-satisfied grin on her face. The fury almost hurt my stomach.

"What the hell are you looking at?" I snapped.

She snickered. "You're wet."

I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment. I turned my back to her, picking up the towel from the ground and wringing my hair in it. When I faced her again, her eyes snapped up to mine. Surprise slammed into me as I realized she'd been staring right at my ass. What, was she not straight? Bisexual then?

I can't let her see my surprise, obviously. My expression hardened. "Perv," I said, throwing the towel at her face and then returning my attention to the eggs.

She caught it and tossed it on the kitchen table. "Excuse me?"

I turned around and barely resisted the urge to take a step back. She was in my personal space. Her eyes were level with his chest because she was standing on the stupid stool that sat on the kitchen floor. I had to tilt my head back just to keep eye contact with her. But I refused to step back. Instead I gave her my best sneer. "Normally I would tell you to stop playing dumb. But with you, I don't think it's playing."

She scowled. "At least I didn't get a bucket poured on my head."

I matched her scowl. Her dark brown eyes narrowed as mine did. For a moment, we glared, sizing one another up.

Damn it, I hated how attractive she was. I had issues with my sexuality, and those issues were that sometimes I was attracted to girls, and that was something that was not an option for me. My father would disown me. But still, it didn't stop me from feeling that way.

So that was only yet another reason why I hated how attractive she was. She had long legs, and though I had yet to see her in shorts, I was sure they would be curvy and tanned. Her hair was raven-black and looked shiny and silky. Her eyes were luminous, dark, fringed with thick lashes that were common to Latinas. She had cute dimples that flashed even when she scowled. Her breasts were surprisingly large for such a slender, lean build, and her ass was…well, thinking the word juicy made me feel so gay, but that was the best word that fit. As juicy as her plump bottom lip…if I didn't hate her so much, I would've lapped her up like cream by now.

"So fuck you, Princess."

"You would, " I countered.

Little pink patches appeared on her cheeks, which were difficult to discern in her brown skin. "Yeah, not even in your dreams."

I smirked. "Perv, " I repeated. And with that, I turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the eggs for her to sort.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I really didn't like that girl.

Grudgingly, I put up the rest of the eggs in silence. I had just made a complete fool of myself, not just because I'd lost an argument with her, but because...I had been so attracted to her. Don't ask me why. I don't have the faintest idea. I didn't even like her. It was just basic biology...she was a really hot girl, and she was standing right in front of me in a dripping wet, white tank top. Yeah. Then I gets caught staring at her ass. I couldn't help it. It wasn't my fault that she was so hot. Also not my fault that she was such a bitch. The way she reacted had been weird, though. She seemed so…casual, about it all. I was confused. Surely she was straight…

"Hey, Santana. You seen Quinn?" It was Matt. He didn't look too happy. Then again, Matt never looked too happy.

Of course, we were all smart enough not to ask why. For one, we didn't want him to kill us. For two, we all knew that Matt had had a rough life. His mom died when he was three years old. She'd been Kurt's mom's sister and his aunt Lydia. Matt grew up with his alcoholic step-dad, who'd only been married to his mom for a month before she died. Too bad for Matt that he was stuck with him, since his real dad had ditched him when Matt was born. I wasn't too sure on all the details...I knew Matt's stepdad—David—wasn't very nice to him, and David was thrown in jail when Matt was eleven. Matt has lived with Kurt's great-aunt Glenda ever since. I was pretty sure she was the only one who could handle him. I was so sure on that because, Kurt told us that apparently once a few years back, Matt had gotten into a fight with one of the extra ranch-hands, and Kurt's Aunt Glenda was the only one who could calm Matt down. Which was good, because Matt was one punch away from literally killing the ranch-hand, who never came back after that.

I realized that Matt was staring at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. I shook myself out of my reserve. "No. I mean yeah. She was here a minute ago."

"You know where she went?"

I studied Matt for a moment. I wondered if how intimidating he looked to people who didn't know him. He had thick, corded muscles from working, but that wasn't quite it. It was more the expression...the utter confidence and steel that shone in his pale blue eyes. He looked like someone who knew he could pummel you.

"No. She seemed pretty hacked though. She'd managed to dump a bucket of water over on herself." I held Matt's gaze steadily. I really hoped he wouldn't realize I was lying, but...sometimes Matt was weird like that. Like he could read minds. I'd only lived with him for the past month and I could already tell that about him.

"Hm." Matt lowered his gaze to the little puddles on the kitchen tile. His dirty-blonde hair had fallen into his eyes. He swept it back with a jerk of his head as he looked up at me. "Tell me when you find her. She needs to make a supply run, and you're going to supervise."

"What?" I said indignantly. I set down the last egg in the fridge, closed the door. "Why? I'm _not_ her babysitter."

"You are, actually." Matt's voice took on the hard tone he got when he meant business. And Matt always meant business. "No one else is going to do it. Besides." He had the faintest of grins on his face. It didn't meet his eyes. "You're out of a job, remember? You freak out about milking the cows and cooking the food, so watching the house when the rest of us were working was all you had to do and you couldn't even do that. So now you're going to make sure it's fixed."

"Come on!" I persisted, despite the guilt his words had made me feel. I'd really messed up the one thing Kurt had managed to talk Matt into letting me do. "She's so annoying!"

"Why?"

I blinked where I might otherwise have goggled. "_Why? _Because she's a b—" I faltered under Matt's glare. "Because she's rude."

" _'Because she's rude! _' "

Kurt's cousin Tommy—he was adopted into the family, as he was black—swaggered into the kitchen with a broad, blinding white grin on his face. I actually really liked Tommy. He was a funny guy. Except for now. "Haha, you sound like a pansy-ass, Santana."

"That's what I told her," Matt said, smirking a little.

Puck entered behind Tommy, a half-eaten apple in his hand. "You know what I think? I think she has the hots for her."

Tommy's laugh was big and booming, much like the rest of his 300 pound self. "I'm telling Brittany that her girl is having an affair with a coworker."

I scowled, shoving Tommy's hand off me when it landed on my shoulder. "Shut up."

Tommy sobered a little as he reached for a banana. He sat down and was peeling it when he said, "Come on, man, you know we're just giving you a hard time. You still sore for her?"

Brittany was my ex-girlfriend, obviously. We broke up the first month of college. It wasn't that we couldn't take the long-distance. It was that it hadn't felt right anymore. Like our time had passed. When she'd started having a thing with this girl at her community college named Marley, it had been like a slap in the face for me. Maybe I had expected her to mourn for me more. Either way, it had made me rethink our whole break up. Maybe I had been too hasty.

"No," I lied. "I'm over her. And I do not have the hots for Miss Destruction."

"Why not?" Puck chuckled as he sat backwards in the chair closest to Tommy. "She's sexy as fuck."

"Yeah man," Tommy said. "I think even I might have the hots for Princess."

Matt kicked one of Tommy's chair legs with the toe of his steel boots. "That's disgusting. You're like a decade older than her."

"Kurt checked up on her," said Puck. "She's nineteen."

"Hah." Tommy lightly slapped Matt's arm with the back of his beefy hand. "Eight years. Not ten."

"Well, she's the perfect age for me or Santana here," Puck gave me a wicked grin. I rolled my eyes and turned, grabbing myself a peach. "Fucking your babysitter is hot. Trust me, I know. I've done it."

Tommy sniggered. "I'm thinking that this vanilla needs a little chocolate in—"

"Enough," interjected Matt. He looked at me and said sharply, "Go find her, and tell her to get her checkbook ready."

"Where are they going?" asked Tommy as he tossed his banana peel into the open trashcan sitting beside the fridge.

"Princess is going to buy us some more wood and paint." Matt gestured at me. "Get a move on."

I was grinding my teeth in anger as I hunted down Quinn. I found her kneeling at the hole in the front of the house, trying to reach the paintbrush into a little cinch in the side of the wood. She glanced up at me, returned her attention to the paintbrush after her lips pursed in distaste. "What do you want?"

"Get up. We're going to a couple stores. And you're buying."

She stood up, her mouth falling open in outrage. "You're out of your freaking mind if you think I'm-"

I scowled down at her. "Orders from Matt."

She fell silent. She looked furious. Finally, she clenched her fists and spat, "Fine. You better not stain my car with your filth, though."

I gave her an innocent smile. "Again I repeat: fuck you, Princess."

She upturned her nose. "And again _I _repeat: you would."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I slid into the passenger seat of Quinn's dented car reluctantly. I really didn't want to spend the day with Miss Priss, but there was nothing I could do about it. Well, I mean, technically I could go whine to Burt and he could chatise Matt for me, since he seemed to be the only one who was on equal footing with him, but I felt like I was in debt to Matt because I had been the one in charge of house-sitting when this idiot drove into it. So it was partly my fault, even though it sort of wasn't my fault at all since there was no way I could have stopped a fucking car from where it was heading.

Quinn cranked the radio to an ear-splitting volume. Obviously she didn't want to talk, which I was thankful for. Still, I cringed as Poker Face pounded in my head, sending my temples into a dull ache. I loved Lady Gaga, but I hated that song. We drove like that for a couple minutes, until finally he couldn't take it anymore. I shut off the radio.

To my surprise, Quinn didn't hiss at me. Instead, we kept driving in the silence for another fifteen minutes, until we pulled into the drive of a huge house that could pass as a mansion, and she shut off the engine. I looked around, startled. "Where are we?"

She paused in her gathering of her purse, cellphone, and keys. Her emerald eyes peered at me over the rim of the sunglasses she slid down the bridge of her nose. "This is the part where I drive out to the spooky deserted woods, kill you, and bury you where no one will find you."

I arched a brow. "We aren't parked near any spooky deserted woods."

She gave a huff of her breath and gestured at her body with a wave of her perfectly manicured hands. "Do you really think I'm going to go shopping looking like this?"

I frowned, looking her up and down. Maybe not the smartest idea, as she wore a damp white shirt and I could see the lacy red bra she wore underneath it. I cleared my throat. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'. So I am going to go take a shower and get ready. You..." One side of her nose wrinkled. "Sit in the parlor or something, I don't know. Just don't bother me."

I slipped my hands into my pockets as I followed her up the strenuously well-kept lawn into the incredibly spotless mansion/house. She pointed me to the parlor room and then left up the sparkling-white spiral staircase.

Well great. Now what do I do?

Uncomfortable, I strolled around the parlor observing the pictures decorating the walls. Not surprisingly, they were all pictures of her. There was one of her as a child, and it caught my interest. Her hair had been blonder when she was younger. It exploded from her head in a white-blonde, frizzy poof. She must've been about three or four. She wore a Minnie Mouse dress, and gave the camera a toothy smile as she leaned against the shiny red tricycle beside her. That was probably the only time she'd ever been sweet. I wondered when it was that she'd started to change into the evil bitch of destruction that she was now.

Curious, I moved on to the next picture. She was probably eight or nine in this one. Her hair had darkened considerably, now more gold than platinum. It hung to her back in mad curls. She appeared to be laughing as she clutched the hand of the girl standing just a tad taller beside her. The girl was probably the same age, and looked as though she could be her sister. She had the same golden hair, the same plump lips and straight little nose. Quinn was looking up at her in affection. Hm. Quinn looked sweet in that one, too.

I observed the next picture. Now this seemed more like Quinn. She was probably eleven or twelve in this one, and her hair had been hacked off to above shoulder length. She was literally glaring at the camera. Her arms were gripped from behind by a tall, slender woman who wore a tight gray dress and one of those fancy sun-hats. She looked like she'd be the Barbie you loved to hate in a movie.

I blew out a breath as I turned and eyed the couch. It was a clean white, so clean it could be brand-new. I went over to it and plopped down.

I didn't know when, but eventually I slipped into a doze. I jolted awake when fingers snapped together right in front of my nose. Disoriented, I sat up, blinked at Quinn. She looked...why did she look so good? She wore a bright yellow sundress, and her hair was loose and curly, tumbling down her back and over her shoulders. Her sunglasses were gone, so when I met her gaze, her beauty took my breath away.

"I didn't say you could take a nap." She sounded faintly amused as opposed to the grouchy tone she usually reserved for me.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep." I frowned at her as I dragged a hand through my hair. "Why are you wearing that?"

She smoothed the bottom of the dress with the palm of her hand. "Change of plans. Come on."

Annoyed, I followed her out of the house, still frowning. "What do you mean, change of plans? We have to go to those stores and get the supplies. Matt will kill us if we don't."

"We will," she said exasperatedly, closing the door behind him and locking it with the ornate silver key she withdrew from her purse. "We just have to make a couple stops along the way."

I didn't like the sound of that. I glared at her as I settled into the passenger seat of her car. "If we take too long, Matt will-"

"'Matt-shmatt." Quinn held down the brake so she could send a glare back at me. "Is Matt the boss of you?" Before I could argue that, she added, "Are you scared of him?"

"You don't know about some of the things he's done," I said darkly, thinking of the stories Kurt and Finn told me.

She shook her head as she resumed driving. "Look, to tell you the truth, I don't give a damn. I'm going to make these stops. And I'll take my time if I want to. It's my money anyway."

I bit my tongue and looked out the window as the countryside as it rolled past. "Where are the stops?" I finally asked, my voice tightly controlled. I was kind of impressed with myself. Normally my temper would have snapped by now.

"You'll see." She rolled down her window, and I caught a whiff of some type of incredible perfume as it wafted my way. Well, that's not surprising. She could probably afford the best type of perfume there is.

They spent the drive in irritated silence. She pulled into the drive of another fancy looking house/mansion, and I felt blood rush to my head when two girls came bursting out of the front door wearing nothing but bikinis.

The first had straight as a board white-blonde hair, and her body was bordering on the very skinny side. She had a pretty smile though. The other girl was beautiful in an exotic way. She had exquisite dark skin, and hair fell to her mid-back in multiple braids.

Neither of them spared Santana a glance as they buffeted Quinn with hugs once she got out of the car.

"Quinnie! We haven't seen you in days." the blonde friend said in a dramatic tone.

"I know, I know." Quinn laughed, kissing the blonde's cheek. "I've been busy."

The black girl gave Quinn a blinding-white smile. "Busy with life at the farm?" Her voice was rich.

"Hey Quinn, who's the mexi candy in your car?" The blonde friend bent, her head poking in through the driver's side window to give me a smile. I didn't bother to return one, only deadpanned her in return. Quinn's Barbie friends. Ugh.

"Oh." Quinn rolled her eyes, mimicking her friend's movement, only instead of giving me a smile, she gave me a jerk of her thumb. "Get out already."

I inwardly grumbled as I climbed out of the car. I was vaguely nervous, and it both flustered and incensed me. All three of these girls were extremely hot, and probably extremely rich, too. I was extremely hot too, of course, but they were probably straight.

Quinn seemed annoyed with me, as usual, and sounded impatient as she said, "Ladies, this is Santana Lopez, my apparent babysitter. Santana, these are my friends Claire," The blonde lifted an elegant hand in greeting, smiling, "And Lena." The black one nodded at me.

"So, Quinn." Claire's blue eyes sparkled in merriment and mischief as she looked from Santana to Quinn. "Is she available?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I tried my best not to glare at Claire when she asked me if Santana Lopez—_my enemy- _was available. If I glared, Claire would make a big deal out of it, saying I was jealous or some other ridiculous thing like that. Instead, I gave a cool laugh and said, "Well I don't know if you'd want her. She has a habit of bullying poor unsuspecting women."

"How so?" asked Claire, sounding intrigued.

"Oh, stalking them. Things like that." I smirked when Santana's cheeks turned pink.

"I do not," she said heatedly. "I have to accompany her to the store because apparently she's too irresponsible to go by herself."

Claire snickered. "Quinn _is_ kind of a wild child."

Lena nudged me in the ribs with an elbow. "Yeah, she's not really one to be careful."

I frowned, nudging Lena right back. "Stop it, guys."

Santana lifted her eyebrows, appearing maliciously interested in the concept. "Quinn's a wild child?"

"Oh yeah." Claire giggled. "She's mellowed down a lot now though. She used to party every night, and—"

"Claire!" Mortified, I shot her _the look _that clearly told her to shut up, because she did.

"Okay I got it!" My friend Rhiannon came running out of Claire's mansion. Running rather awkwardly, as she wore three-inch heels along with her bright yellow bikini. Her honey-brown hair streamed behind her in waves and her azure eyes were bright as she reached us, clutching the letter in her hands. "Here ya go."

As she and Santana exchanged quick introductions, I impatiently ripped the envelope open, and my eyes absorbed what was written in my great grandmother's scrawl.

* * *

_**Quinn,**_

_**Firstly, I can't find the broach you mentioned. I looked everywhere. I'm sorry, but it looks like it's gone. Have you asked your dad about it? He might have stored it somewhere. Secondly, the only time I can come down to see you is the second to last week of July. Is that your last week of summer?**_

_**I can't talk long, Brianna's in the next room pitching a fit because Stephanie won't stop crying—poor thing's been sick for over a week now. So I'll talk to you later; give me a call, why don't you? I have no earthly idea why you keep insisting on sending letters like we're some kinda poor rendition of Little House on the Prairie.**_

_**You are so odd, but still, we love you bunches and bunches.**_

_**-Grams**_

* * *

I turned the paper over in my hands, hoping for more. There wasn't. Lena, Claire and Rhiannon watched me in silence as I stared at the letter. Reading it had left me feeling oddly bereft. I didn't know why. My grandmother loved me, but her letters were never very detailed or long in the first place. She lived up in Washington, and I only got to see her once a year. Still, she was my favorite relative.

"I'm sorry, honey," murmured Lena, stroking a hand down my arm.

I blinked up at her. "For what?"

"The broach." Lena's dark eyes were fathomless. I had always admired them. When I was younger, I used to get so jealous of her, mainly because she seemed so exotic, while I was just the average rich white girl. My father grew annoyed when I mentioned how I loved her skin, telling me I should be more grateful for mine since it's a sign of a higher class. He's a racist asshole. "I know how much you were hoping she'd have it."

"Oh." I carefully folded the letter up and slipped it into my pocket. "No, it's fine. I doubted it would be there anyway." I plastered a fake smile on my face, shifting it from Lena to Claire then Rhiannon. "Thanks for bringing it for me, Rhi."

Rhiannon shook her head, her sweet voice sympathetic as she told me, "It was no trouble, hon."

I blew out a breath. "Well, I should probably get going. Santana and I have to go shopping for wood and paint."

Lena, Claire, Rhiannon and I all exchanged looks of distaste. Then they embraced me one at a time, giving me apologetic goodbyes.

Minutes later, the wind was blowing back my hair as I drove down the highway. I was too immersed in my own thoughts to turn the radio on, and Santana seemed to be somewhere along the same lines as she stared out the window thoughtfully. After another few minutes passed, Santana finally turned to me and broke the silence.

"That broach...did it upset you, that whoever that was in the letter didn't have it?"

She sounded curious, and I was too weary to argue with her, so I replied, "A little."

"Was it...your mom's?"

Surprised, I glanced at her. There was a little crease between her brows, and her mocha colored eyes seemed concerned. Weird. "Why would you think that?"

She lifted a shoulder, let it drop. "Just a guess. From the pictures back at your house. I never saw anyone that looked like she could be your mom. There was one that could've been I guess, but you didn't seem comfortable enough with her."

Hm. She was much more perceptive than I would've imagined. "That wasn't my house. Well, it was one of them, but technically it's my father's. And no, that wasn't my mom. It was my step-mom. And you shouldn't think she wasn't my mom just because I wasn't comfortable with her. I'm not comfortable with my father, but he's still my father."

"You have more than one house?" She let out a low whistle as she looked out the window again. "Damn, Fabray. Daddy must spoil you more than I thought."

I gave her a strange look. "I talk to my father twice a year, if that."

Santana looked back at me. I'd apparently taken her completely by surprise. "I'm sorry," she said, now taking _me _by surprise. "Why's that?"

This was weird. It was like we were being nice to each other. Playing it casual, I shrugged. "He's too busy for me. Being a multimillionaire kinda does that."

"So, where's your mom?"

I felt the pain, even after all these years. It wasn't the intense sear like it used to be. It was just a muffled kind of ache. It hurt, but it was manageable. "She died. Eight years ago."

Santana was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, she said, "I'm sorry."

I jumped, startled, when she reached over to the steering wheel, put a hand over mine. I was so stunned that I literally couldn't move or think of anything to say. Her hand was so soft and warm over mine.

"I would say I know how you feel, because my dad left me and my mom when I was fifteen. But I'm more angry then sad about it."

Still struggling to be casual, I nodded. I still couldn't think of anything to say.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Just a thanks to Quinntana2; I love reviews and I especially love them every chapter, so thank you! :)(:**

**Chapter 8**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Shopping with Quinn wasn't as bad as I had predicted. She wasn't rude like I thought she'd be, and when I offered suggestions of what to buy, she listened to me. I wondered if it was because of what happened earlier in her car.

I upset her, I know I did. Her face had been pale, her expression strained because she'd been trying so hard not to seem affected. But I'd felt the delicate tremor in her fingers under my hand, I'd watched as she took those short, choppy breaths. Her mom's death was still bothering her, even after eight years. I wanted to know how she'd died, but I didn't want to push her any farther.

All I knew was that Quinn was intriguing me. Every time I would assume something about her, she'd prove me wrong. I still didn't like her. But I did want to know more about her.

What was the harm in that?

We didn't arrive back at the ranch until a quarter past four. It was different when Quinn left, because this time she'd actually muttered a quick goodbye to me. She'd avoided making eye contact with me, but still. It was progress.

The next day, Quinn seemed back to her bitchy self. She made snide comments to me about the overalls I was wearing (okay seriously, and how ridiculous, as if I would ever wear overalls any other time then when we were painting, and they _were _ugly, but like I said, we were were painting today, so I didn't really care) and she'd rolled her eyes when I asked her to start pasting the bricks back in around the hole. I got my revenge the next day when Leon and Abel had succeeded in their next prank, which was to put a tack on the kitchen chair right before she'd sat on it, but I hadn't gotten any lasting satisfaction out of it, because Quinn had only picked up the tack—after screaming and leaping to her feet—and strode out of the kitchen with it. I would've followed her to see what she was going to do with it, but then Tommy stepped in front of me.

"Hey, we're taking a break. Goin' fishin'." He grinned. "Grab your pole and let's go." He snickered at his poor joke and strutted away (Tommy strutted wherever he went).

I headed down to the pond and watched rather than fished; I may be braver with getting dirty and having poor fashion sense down here in the boondocks, but I wasn't about to go touching any fucking fish. So instead I watched as everyone else did. Even Brice—who was only ten years old—caught one.

"Spoiler alert," said Puck suddenly. We all twisted around in our lawn chairs to see Matt approaching.

_Ugh_, I inwardly groaned. _Break over._

Sure enough, the first thing Matt said was, "Break over. Get back to work. Tommy, you and Finn go herd the cattle into the second pasture. Puck, Sam, you two get the horses back into the stables. There's going to be a storm tonight. Kurt, Rachel, Billy, Brice and the twins—you all need to go start on the feed. Brittany's inside cleaning, and I'm going to be moving supplies around."

"What about me?" I asked as everyone else started packing up and leaving.

Matt jerked his thumb back toward the house. "Go see what's going on with Princess. She's freaking out."

Frowning, I went to find Quinn. It wasn't too hard to do. She was slacking, of course, and standing in the kitchen talking—or more like yelling—into her iPhone.

"What the hell do you mean you're not coming?" She looked absolutely pissed. Her teeth were bared and her eyes were wide with outrage. "_Why?_ " I watched as her expression turned angrier as whoever she was yelling at spoke. "Are you freaking _kidding _me, Dayton? Who am—yes, I'm still going! How can I not go? It's my best friend's twentieth birthday, of course I'm going! But _I can't go alone._ What part of that do you _not understand? _" She listened for half a second before saying loudly, "_Damn it, _Dayton!Idon't_ care! _Get your ass off the plane, exchange your ticket for another time and get back here! Don't—_no—_!" She let out a long stream of curse words as she slammed the phone down on the kitchen counter. Obviously the Dayton guy she'd been talking to had hung up on her.

To my delight—for it was something I could mock her about later—she began to pace and talk to herself.

"What do I do, what do I do." She sounded really stressed. "I have to go, and I have to bring someone. All my exes are out of town. My boyfriend's out of town. I have no guy friends. All my girl friends will already be there. I just need someone to go with me. I can't show up at a party alone like a total fucking loser. What do I do!"

Foreboding rushed over me, and I realized that if she saw me, she might get a bad idea. Just as I began to slowly creep out, however, she turned and spotted me. She gasped and her eyes widened even more as she scrambled to my side.

"Oh my God, Santana! I need your help. Please." I looked down into her puppy-dog expression. Her eyes were big and shining, and were closer to brown in the dim light of the kitchen then the usual vivid green. She had a death grip on my shirt sleeve. "Please please please. I'll pay you. I'll do anything. Please!"

I considered that. "Anything?"

She nodded frantically. "Anything."

"Alright." I grinned. I could work this to my advantage. Lets see, what's something I could make her do that would take a hit on her pride every time she did it, and give me satisfaction? "I'll go. But the deal is, tomorrow you have to compliment me. Every time you see me."

Her brows drew down. I could see the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she nodded. "Deal. Now come on."

"I-what-" She'd began to tug me out of the house. "We can't leave now. Matt will—"

"I don't care!" she said impatiently as she shoved me into the passenger seat of her car. "You're a train wreck! I have to fix you!"

I frowned. "You idiot. Do you really think I always dress like this?" I demanded. "I have plenty of dresses back in my—"

"I'm betting we wear the same size, and I have some Vera Wang at my house," she snarled.

That shut me up.

She drove like a bat out of hell until we reached her house/mansion that we'd been at two days ago. She literally dragged me up the stairs and into a bedroom, shoving me down onto what looked like a very expensive bed and then rushing into what was probably the bathroom.

I sat there, clearing my throat uncomfortably. Well, this was kind of awkward. The house was utterly silent. Was anyone ever home here?

"Take off your clothes!" I heard Quinn call from the bathroom.

"What!" I nearly yelped it.

She made a noise of frustration. Her arm came into view from the doorway, pointing at the opposite side of the room where there was one of those privacy dressing screen things you always see in movies. "Go behind there. And hurry up! I have to get you ready before I can get myself ready!"

I grumbled as I went behind the folding screen and began to strip. It wasn't like I would have been embarrassed to change out there. I know I'm hot, and my body, complete with abs courtesy of gymnastics for thirteen years and Cheerios for four, was a big part of my appeal. But I had hesitation for changing around Quinn, mostly because I could feel something different in the air around her now. It didn't take a genius to figure out I was attracted to her. And who wouldn't be, really? She was pretty hot herself.

A moment later, heavy fabric hit my head, the zipper catching me on the forehead. "Ow."

"Oh stop complaining. You should be thanking me. I'm introducing you to fashion."

I muttered a couple things I was going to introduce my foot to as I pulled the black undergarment on. A second later, a lighter fabric landed on me. Pulling it back to appraise it, I let out a low whistle of appreciation. It was a red Vera Wang dress. When I slipped into it, I felt even better about my decision to come here. Even if Quinn was a total bitch all night, at least I was able to wear this dress for a couple hours. I looked great; it fit the slender curves of my body impeccably. It was a little tight around my breasts, but otherwise it was perfect.

"Are you done yet?"

"Yeah." I stepped out from the screen. I didn't know whether to be flattered or offended when Quinn's brows rose in surprise.

"Um…wow. You clean up nice. Come here." She stepped to me, and I felt a little pinch as she inserted a sparkling diamond earring in my left ear, then my right. Then she put a necklace on me and fashioned it from the front. I thought her saw her cheeks redden, just a little, as she clasped it. I tilted my head back so my mouth wasn't so close to hers, and my chin brushed the soft top of her head.

" 'Kay. Now get those shoes on while I get dressed."

I sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled on the heels she'd left sitting on the floor for me. Then I used the makeup she gave me and applied it in the mirror of one of the several dressers in the room. I absently wondered why the hell a girl with skin as white and creamy as hers would have my tanned color of foundation just lying around in her house.

Finally, after I was completely ready, I sat on the edge of Quinn's bed and lounged there for the next half hour while Quinn readied herself.

Finally, she bustled back in. I blinked. She wore a short silver dress that clung to her curves, and her hair was wound into one of those low side ponytails, with the tail curled in shimmering spirals. Her makeup was smoky and perfect. And her legs—since the dress stopped mid-thigh—were long and gleaming.

"Uh." I swallowed, hard. She was too distracted with the comb and hairspray she held in her hands to notice. "You look...nice."

"Thanks," she said absent-mindedly, setting the can of hairspray down on the bed beside him.

My heart thudded in surprise when she kicked my legs apart to stand between us and plunged a hand into my hair. Oh God. One; having my hair touched in any way, whether it was being gently stroked or aggressively pulled, turned me on like crazy. And two; her half-exposed breasts were right in my face.

"Close your eyes so you don't get any hairspray in them," she ordered.

_Okay. _That was probably smarter anyway. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to breathe too deeply so I wouldn't get high off the smell of her. Holy _shit _she smelled good.

Five minutes later, she stepped back and I took a deep drag of air that was only tainted slightly by the hairspray. I felt light-headed.

"I'm all done." She smiled. Her eyes traveled from my head to my toes. "You look..." I waited for the compliment. It didn't come. "Damn, I'm good." she said cheerily, turning to put away the hairspray and comb.

I glanced at his reflection in the mirror. She had styled my hair with my bangs pulled back into a quiff and the rest of my hair hanging down to my upper back. I looked pretty hot, but honestly, I knew my own body and face and hair, and if she had let me get ready at Kurt's and then gave me the dress, I would have looked even better. She, however, looked stunning. Before I could stop myself, I began to compare her with another girl I had always thought to be beautiful. And Brittany was beautiful. But even her face couldn't push Quinn's out of my mind.

"Alright. Lets go." She started toward the door.

"Wait, what about my clothes?"

She hit the light-switch. I blinked in the sudden darkness. "We'll get them after the party."

I hurried after her, trying my best not to watch the sway of her hips under that shimmering dress.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

When we pulled into the drive of yet another huge mansion/house, I couldn't believe my eyes. People were everywhere. Vaguely, I wondered if this was what it would be like on the Red Carpet.

"Alright, here are the rules," said Quinn, turning to me once she'd parked the car. "Don't flirt. With anyone. Most of the guys here are here with their girlfriends."

I snorted, though I felt a little guilty along with the amusement. So she had no idea I was a lesbian. Resigning myself to keeping it that way, with her knowledge about me that limited, I looked out the window at the girls walking around. They all looked like they'd just sprang out of a Victoria's Secret magazine. "Why not?"

"Because it'll _embarrass _me. How old are you?" she added.

"I'll be twenty in a couple of months."

"Okay, don't drink any alcohol. Lena's mom is strict about it. Don't mention where you're from or what you do or how much money you have. And above all, _don't _deliberately humiliate me. Don't accidentally humiliate me either, now that I mention it." She gave me a cheerful smile. "Got it all? Okay then. Let's go."

This was a giant pain in my ass. There were so many people going around, and the fact that the majority of them were probably millionaires made it nerve-wracking, for some reason. I remained utterly silent at Quinn's side as she flitted from group to group, exchanging greetings and air kisses. It wasn't until approximately forty-two minutes in, when we found Claire and Rhiannon, that I finally spoke.

"Santana!" Claire shot me an alluring smile despite the fact that she was clutching the arm of some guy. What the hell, was she bisexual or something? Or was she just naturally flirtatious? I was guessing the latter. She looked amazing in her embroidered green dress, as did Rhiannon in her sleek blue one. Neither of them had anything on Quinn, though. "Quinn, you didn't tell me Santana was coming. What happened to Dayton?"

"He's out of town, actually," said Quinn sweetly, but I saw the anger in her eyes. She was still pissed at Dayton for ditching her. "He had to fly to London for business."

_Business? How old was he?_

"Wow, Santana. I had no idea you were this hot." Rhiannon nodded, smiling at me. The man she stood beside smirked a little, probably being a perv at the comment. _Think again, buddy, you are not about to have a threesome with me involved._

I forced a smile. "Thanks. You look great too. And you, Claire."

They each fluttered their long lashes at me. My necklace suddenly felt too tight. _Well, the three of us having one is another idea entirely…_

"Alright, well," said Quinn suddenly, sounding a little too forceful. "We're going to go find Lena. You guys have fun."

Quinn steered Santana toward Lena, who was looking gorgeous in her russet satin dress. "Happy birthday!" They kissed each other, and then Lena smiled at me. "You clean up _muy bueno._"

"That's what I said!" Quinn grinned.

"Your work, I presume?" Lena asked her.

Quinn's grin widened. "Of course."

Lena nodded in appreciation, winking one of those big dark eyes at me. "Watch yourself. Quinn will eat you right up if you give her the chance."

_Oh my God. What the hell was going on here?_ Heat scorched my cheeks. Quinn's own cheeks turned scarlet. She glared at Lena, who laughed and kissed Quinn's forehead. "It's my birthday. I can get away with it today. Have fun."

Lena swept away, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. "Um," mumbled Quinn uncertainly. "Well, I'm going to go get some punch. Go mingle if you want."

I opened my mouth to protest, but she was already weaving her way through the crowd. Great. I didn't know anybody. What was I supposed to do now?

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_Santana. _Was there never an end to how many times she surprised me? She looked gorgeous. Like she could model for Victoria's Secret or something, no joke. The fact that she seemed completely aware of that only made her hotter. If I wasn't careful, I could easily become so attracted to her that I could do something crazy, like do something about it.

My hands were shaking slightly as I poured myself a cup of punch. I couldn't believe Lena had just humiliated me like that. I knew she hadn't meant any harm. Maybe it was just the fact of how accurate she'd been.

And that was the problem. I had a _boyfriend. _A sucky boyfriend, but still. Oh who was I kidding. I couldn't care less if I cheated on Dayton. The problem was that Santana was not only was a fucking girl, but she was my enemy. I knew it my own fault that she was, but either way, the fact still remained. Plus, she absolutely was not my type. She was probably a country girl—or at least she lived out in the country—and we just had nothing in common. Besides the fact that we were both missing a parent, of course. That was it though. But even besides all of those facts, it was because she was a girl that made this all completely impossible. I was not allowed to be attracted to women, damn it, so why the hell was I? I hated it, I hated that about myself. Why couldn't I just be normal and look at men that way?

Lena, Rhiannon and Claire all knew that about me, of course. My ultimate secret, that I felt about women the way I'm supposed to feel about men. I had made the mistake of, when talking to them about how I had just ran my car into a house and was now forced to work to pay it off, I mentioned that Santana was hot. It had slipped out of my lips before I could stop it, and Rhiannon and Claire, of course, had pounced. Now not only would they not stop teasing me, but they were apparently trying their best to instigate something by making me jealous, flirting with Santana. Not only did it infuriate me by succeeding in making me jealous, but also it pissed me off because it was ridiculous. Santana was probably straight too, I mean she didn't look gay.

I jumped in surprise and the punch went slopping over the rim of the cup when someone tapped on my shoulder. "You got your punch. Now come sit down with me." It was Santana. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed my forearm and led me to a table that stood in the corner of the room, farthest from the large throng of people. I sat down and said nothing even while Santana stared at me expectantly. God, her eyes. They were so dark and hot, and her lashes were impossibly thick and long. And her face, it was flawless. The strong angle of her jaw, the full set of her lips. I felt my stomach tighten in response.

I couldn't take it. To distract myself from how much she was turning me on, I said, "So, do you live at the ranch?"

She shook her head. "I'm from Ohio, but I've been living in New York for the past year."

Oh. I hadn't known that. _What the hell, New York?_ I realized when it hit me. Not a country girl at all_. I'm_ even more country then she is. _What the fuck._ "Why are you here then?"

"I grew up with Kurt, and then he's my roommate at college. Me, our other roommate Rachel and then a few of our friends from high school all flew out here to help him and his family out by rebuilding the whole place, since I think Kurt's aunt is trying to get a loan to help her keep it. We had just finished adding on to the house, when you came."

_Eee_. "The house that I ruined..."

She sent me a crooked smile. "The house that you're fixing," she corrected. That was nice of her.

I chewed on my lower lip. "Will their aunt be mad?"

"Furious," answered Santana easily. "But she won't be even a quarter of how mad she would be if we didn't fix it before she got back."

"When will she get back?"

"The first of August."

My jaw dropped. "We have to fix the house within two months?"

Santana nodded grimly. I felt a little faint. Oh, we were screwed...

"So why did you ruin the house? Or how?" asked Santana.

I bit down on my lip a little harder. "You won't tell?" She shook her head, then waited for me to speak. "I fell asleep."

"That's what we all figured." Santana didn't sound surprised. "Puck said you were probably drunk, but you didn't seem it then. Plus, I didn't smell anything."

I snorted, amused despite myself. "You were sniffing me out?"

She grinned. "I'm a ninja. That's why you didn't notice."

I smiled, shaking my head before taking a sip of punch. "I can bet I didn't notice because I was freaking out."

"You were freaking out?"

"Oh yeah. Hysterical." I lifted my eyebrows at the memory of it. "I was about to throw up all over you when I got out of the car."

"Huh." Santana looked contemplative. "But you played it so cool. You were really freaking out?"

I dipped my head in a nod as I took another gulp of punch. "I'm good at playing it cool. Just look around," I added, gesturing. "When you grow up in this kind of environment, you have to have good composure."

"Why?"

I brought my voice down an octave so those nearest wouldn't overhear. "Everyone here—besides Lena and her mother—are completely fake."

Santana leaned forward to hear me. "Even Rhiannon and Claire?"

"They have their moments. Like now, look." I pointed at Claire, rotating in a slow dance with her boyfriend.

"What about her?" said Santana quizzically.

"Look at her. She's pretending to be enjoying herself. See how she's leaning away from Darin, and only her hands are on his shoulders?"

"Oh. Yeah, I see what you mean."

"When you're actually enjoying yourself, you don't dance like that. Look at Rhiannon and her boyfriend. See how they're all pressed together, and Rhiannon's arms are around his neck, and her head's on his shoulder?" Quinn nodded, straightening. "She's not faking it, like Claire is. Plus she—"

"Quinn, Santana!"

We turned when Lena called to us from the dance floor. "Come dance!"

I exchanged a look with Santana. "Ah...we'd rather not."

"Oh come on! It's my birthday! Dance for me, pleeeease!"

I bit my lip again as Santana and I reluctantly rose to our feet. As we took our place beside Lena and the boy she was dancing with, I felt a heat flush my skin. How do you even dance with a woman? I would be the girl in this case. I put my hands on Santana's shoulders, distancing myself from her while she put her own hands on my hips, easily as though it were something she did all the time. She was so warm. I felt my belly flutter.

This...would not be good.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

_This wasn't a good idea._ I knew it even as I placed my hands on Quinn's waist. _This was not a good idea._

Quinn was avoiding my gaze as we swayed. I felt it coming. Emotion. A great tide that threatened to overwhelm me as I stood there with her. Almost unconsciously, I tightened my hold on her, gripped her closer. I knew I was being stupid. We were pretty much enemies, and had absolutely nothing in common. Even by the way she was acting with me at the moment, I knew. She was dancing the same way Claire had been dancing with her boyfriend she apparently didn't like. The only difference was Quinn refused to even _look _at me_._ Which kind of annoyed me, to be honest. That was unnecessarily rude. I came with her to this stupid party, and that was the thanks I got?

I was suddenly determined to make her acknowledge me. I wrapped my arms tighter around her, my forearms at her sides now. She took a sharp intake of breath as our stomachs pressed together. She looked up at me, startled, and quickly looked away when she saw how intently I was gazing at her. I bit my tongue against the irritation. I couldn't believe that she would have the audacity to reject me so completely when I had accepted her, never mind how grudgingly.

I suddenly jerked her in a quick half turn that had her locking her arms around my neck to keep her balance. She glared at me, wisps of her golden hair falling into her emerald eyes. I held her gaze defiantly as I yanked her into another spin. I staggered back in utter shock when she swiped her palm across my left cheek. A few people who had been dancing beside us stared in astonishment. I was left standing there like a stunned idiot as she went storming off toward the dark area of shade supplied by the towering trees beside Lena's mansion. After a moment, once the sting of my cheek had faded a little, anger chased the dumbfounded expression off my face and I thundered after her.

"What the hell was that?" I barked. The sounds of laughter and conversation were muffled and distant now that we stood in the small clearing.

"What the hell was _that? _" she cried, whirling and wildly gesturing back at the dance floor. "You—"

"I was trying to get your attention, damn it!" I said loudly over her voice. "Because you were refusing to even look at me!"

"If I don't want to look at you, then I won't!"

"You didn't even fucking thank me for letting you drag me along to this fucking party!"

"Oh _thank you _for gracing us with your presence, " she said, her voice sagging with sarcasm. "You were such a fucking joy to be around tonight!"

She still wasn't looking at me. She was pacing back and forth before me, the moonlight overhead dappling her in random patterns as she passed under the various patches of tree leaves.

"You weren't such a joy either, _Princess_." I echoed her sarcasm. "Ditching me one minute, slapping me the next—how do you have any friends, with the way you treat people? It's no wonder your boyfriend ditched you tonight—"

"_Don't _mention him! You know nothing!"

"Oh please. I know everything about you." I was lying, I could admit it. But she didn't know that. She was frozen in place, her gaze furious on mine as I stalked forward to growl in her face, "You're Miss Priss who's spoiled rotten and gets anything she wants at the snap of her fingers. You pitched a fit tonight just because your boyfriend decided you weren't worth the effort. Did you even ask him why he couldn't come?"

Her face had turned a ruddy color. "He left for business—"

I snorted with derisive mirth. "Yeah, right. He's probably cheating on you, Princess."

I felt my gut twist when her eyes glimmered. "Fuck you." she said, her voice thick. "Fuck you and your idiotic inbred friends, fuck you and Kurt's stupid aunt, fuck _you! _"

I had a retort right on the edge of my lips but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Not when she looked so upset. I'd gone too far.

"I hate you," she snarled. With her hair in wild strands framing her flushed face and her shining eyes, she looked like a complete mess. So why was it that, gazing at her, I felt my stomach clench, lust clawing at my insides. To be so physically attracted to someone I had declared as my enemy—that wasn't smart. But it wasn't only that. I wanted to make that emotionally wrecked expression on her face disappear. I wanted her to smile. I wanted her to give me that rare smile again—that smile that made my insides ache.

I didn't think. I moved on instinct. She was still telling me she hated me when I crossed the space between them, seized her by the back of her neck. She nearly stumbled as I yanked her over to me. I crushed my lips against hers, smothering her words. For one moment, hardly three seconds, I stood there, nearly lifting her up so I could keep my mouth pressed against hers. Then I drew back, set her more squarely on her feet. We both dragged air into our lungs as our gazes held, and I watched awareness bloom in those stunning green eyes that suddenly seemed to swallow her slender, elegant face.

_What had I just done?_ Kissed not only my enemy, but a straight girl. I was about to be horribly, terribly humiliated.

But instead, I saw her move forward, and I blinked, and then her hands were greedy on my face, tugging me to her so her mouth could take mine. Her enthusiasm scrambled my thoughts, and suddenly I couldn't remember all the reasons why we shouldn't be doing such a thing.

Her mouth was every bit as lush as it looked, and hotter than I'd imagined. Her tongue curved against mine. She tasted of the punch from the party and of something unfamiliar that was rich, sweet, heady, and seemed to sear through my system like liquid fire. I pressed a hand to the small of her back, used the other to pull the band out of her hair and then tangle the golden curls around my fingers.

We both jerked apart when a loud chorus of _Happy Birthday_ drifted to us from the mansion. I stood shaking, shivering against the torrent of sensations rushing through me. I watched her throat move as she swallowed, taking sharp intakes of breath to deliver much-needed oxygen to her lungs. Her eyes no longer shone with tears; they were dark now. Her cheeks were bright pink, her lips rosy-red, her hair cascading down her shoulders and back in wonderful sunlit clouds.

"Um." She closed her eyes for a moment, sucking in a ragged breath. "We need to, um, wish Lena a happy birthday. And then leave. It's...getting late."

I could think of nothing to say. I only followed, obedient in her wake, as she walked back to the party with a shaky stride.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_Oh my God._

That was the only phrase that ran through my head as I drove Santana and I back to my place so we could get her clothes. _What a day._ That's all I could say.

Santana had kissed me. She'd _kissed _me. What the hell did that even mean? Obviously she wasn't straight. Or was she? I mean, I was straight. Ish. And I kissed her back. Oh my God, Santana had kissed me and even worse, I kissed her back! I didn't know what I'd been thinking, but I sure as hell knew what I was thinking now. What had I _done!? _I kissed a fucking girl. If my father ever got wind of that, if anyone had seen us and it somehow got back to him, I'd be written right out of his fucking will. I kissed a girl. Not only that, but I had kissed a girl, cheated on my boyfriend and kissed an enemy all in one go. I'd cheated _myself, _because I warned myself from the get-go not to get attracted to her. And what happened? I ended up having the hottest make out session I ever had in my life, with _her_. _What is wrong with me?_

The silence was awkward, and seemed to loom between us. We had barely exchanged a single word since we said goodbye to Lena and escaped to my car. Now, fifteen minutes later, we couldn't even look at each other.

I wanted to though. I really, really _wanted to_. I wanted to whip off my seatbelt, yank her on top of me and let her have her way. Or better yet, I wanted her to whip off her seatbelt, yank me on top of her and let me have my way. Oh, God, I just wanted her. I was wet, and my stomach felt like it was being pushed in with an iron fist. I had to clench my hands on the steering wheel so I wouldn't reach for her. Why was I so attracted to her?

A fresh wave of panic washed over me as I pulled into the drive of one of my two Nebraska summer houses. Oh no. Santana and I couldn't go in there, alone. A dark, empty house? After the heat we'd just shared? I shivered at the thought of it. She had been so in my personal space back at Lena's, in the woods. She was so much there, in every part of my senses, if I closed my eyes it was as though I was still there. She had stood right before me in the clearing, absolutely gorgeous, and I smell her, the scent of her, invigorating and aromatic. The sound of her breath coming quicker, the taste of her, so dark and intoxicating, and feeling her hands in my hair and on my skin, it was like she'd been surrounding me. Her mouth had been hot, hard, demanding, every bit as hungry as mine had been.

Quickly, I opened the door and slipped out of the car before she could notice me trembling. She silently followed me into the house and up the stairs. Once we reached the bedroom door, a startling fact occurred to me. I opened the door and then half closed it so Santana wouldn't follow, and told her, "Um...I don't think it'd be appropriate for you to change in here, so I'm going to grab them for you..."

She nodded at once. "Yeah, yeah. I got it."

But I only walked two strides when I heard the door snap shut. I turned to see Santana standing there, hidden in the shadows while I stood in the moonlight pouring in from the window, feeling extremely vulnerable and on-edge.

"What are you doing?" I said immediately, my eyes wide.

"They need to talk, Quinn." I blinked when she said my name. I realized that I don't think I've ever heard her call me by my first name.

"About what?" I said nervously, trying to stall.

"Don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about. We kissed back there."

Okay, time to change tactics. I switched to cool and composed. I folded my arms over my chest. "So? It's just a kiss."

"What are you?" asked Santana abruptly, cutting right to the chase.

"What?" I said, actually confused, now.

"What are you?" she repeated. "Are you bi?"

"What?" I said yet again, heatedly this time, as a blush literally burned my skin and set my face and neck on fire. My stomach twisted almost painfully as an incredible level of uncomfortableness came over me. "No. Of course not. Gross." I felt my stomach twist even more when hurt flickered over Santana's face. _Shit._ She had kissed me, after all. _She_ was probably bisexual. As Santana folded her arms over her chest, appearing offended and even a little vulnerable, I floundered. "I mean, not that there's anything, like, wrong with that, because there's totally not," I stammered, but the damage had already been done.

"I'm not bi, either," she said, her voice low and her expression blank, deadpanned, as though she didn't want to show how my words had hurt her.

"Oh," I said, unsure what else to say. I was perplexed. She had kissed me. What did that mean, then? Was she like me, unable to deny attraction to a woman yet stubbornly refusing to accept it?

"I'm a lesbian," she added, and I felt my stomach twist even more. _Great._ Guys weren't even a factor for her. I thought back to how I told her not to flirt with any guys and she laughed at it, and I felt embarrassed at my stupidity.

"Oh," I echoed, really at a loss for words now.

"Look," she sighed, dropping her arms. She didn't move toward me, though, perhaps of the same mindset as me in that we should maintain our distance from one another. "I don't want to make this weird. I probably should have mentioned it sooner, but we weren't exactly on those kinds of speaking terms. Plus, it wasn't really any of your business."

_Not my business until your tongue was in my mouth, but okay._

"I don't know why we kissed. Maybe we were just caught up in the moment."

"I was lonely," I said suddenly when inspirations struck me. "Because Dayton's in London."

She nodded in agreement. "I was lonely too, because I miss Brittany."

"Brittany?" I said in surprise. Brittany was the blonde girl that was always dancing while we were working. She was a really good dancer, but I listened to her explanation to Kurt of why chickens can't cross roads because pavement is their natural adversary, so she's not the sharpest crayon in the box.

"Yeah. We dated for a couple years in high school. We broke up last year."

"Oh." It was the third time I said it, but I honestly didn't know what else to say.

"So, maybe you should talk to this Dayton, and I should go talk to Britt. To make sure that…what happened earlier…doesn't repeat itself."

"It definitely won't," I assured her. "It was a one-time kind of thing. After tonight, we go back to hating each other."

She looked skeptical. "And what if—"

"No matter what," I cut across her, "It won't happen again. Alright?" When she only looked at me, I added, "It would never work out between us, anyway."

Her brows contracted, and she almost looked a little embarrassed. "I know that! I don't want it to. I don't even like you."

I let out a breath in relief. "Oh, good. I don't like you either."

She held out a hand. "So we're agreed? Keep it simple. We go back to hating each other."

I nodded, smiling slightly as I took her hand, shook it. "Agreed."

Her hand seemed to encompass mine in warmth. My smile faded as I looked up, held her gaze. For a single charged moment, I couldn't breathe. And then she grinned, letting go of my hand. She walked over to the dressing screen and retrieved her clothes. While she walked out the door, she looked back at me, grinned. "I hate you."

I forced a smile. "I hate you too." Then I followed her to my car and drove her back home, ignoring the weird butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 **

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Today was not going to be a good one.

The reason for it was still unclear, but I could guess part of the reason was because yesterday had sucked so badly. First the argument with Quinn, then the kiss (which kicked ass as much as it was a mistake), then getting my ass chewed by Matt and the silent treatment from Kurt and the lecture from Rachel, then collapsing into bed only to leap out of it yelling with a tack stuck in my back. _Quinn. _Thinking of how she'd deliberately stuck it there got me, well, thinking of her, and then I couldn't sleep because I was too busy getting all hot and bothered from thinking of the kiss. The highlight of my night, besides the kiss, was probably fucking myself while I pretended it was Quinn. And even then, I still went to bed turned on, unable to quench my own thirst because what I needed was Quinn, not my own hand.

So I'd woken up today sleep-deprived and still in angry turned-on mode. It didn't help that Quinn seemed intent on pretending I didn't exist. Then I remembered something.

"Hey, Q," I said, making up the nickname on the spot and hoping it would annoy her. She only spared me one startled glance when I approached her, and then she fixed her eyes on the brick she was painting. "You remember our little bet right?" Her brow furrowed. She didn't remember. "Think back. Yesterday. I told you I'd go to the party if..."

She dropped the paintbrush. Finally, she met my gaze. "No. No. Come on, Santana—"

"Uh uh uh." Smugness lifted the corners of my mouth. "I'm waiting."

Her jaw rolled as if she was chewing on something unpleasant. Eventually, she spat out, "Your shoes...are...nice." she finished lamely.

I shrugged, grinning as I loped away. It was a start.

For the rest of the day, Quinn was forced to say compliments to me. They weren't very good ones, but seeing the anger on her face was satisfaction enough. At around four o'clock, when Quinn was heading to her car, the twins got her again. Water balloons. I vaguely thought that April—the twins' mother and one of Kurt's many aunts—wouldn't appreciate the new words the twins were learning from Quinn.

"Hey Abel." Leon giggled at his brother. "You're a 'little jackass'!"

"Haha, Leon, fu-"

"Hey hey hey!" I interjected. "Watch it."

The twins ran away laughing. I arched a brow at Quinn. She flipped me off before getting into her car and driving away.

I sighed in relief as I made my way back to the house and began putting away all the supplies. I wouldn't see Quinn for two entire days because of the weekend. I mean, tomorrow I would see her briefly when I went to drop off her cleaned Vera Wang Dress (although I had considered keeping it until she demanded it back). But that shouldn't take more than five minutes. Thank God.

As I eased down onto the bed, I thought about how weird it was that, a week ago, I hadn't known who Quinn was.

"Santana?"

I looked up at the soft voice and the quiet knocking on the door. Brittany stood in the doorway, her blue eyes bright and a small smile on her face.

"Hey, Britt-Britt." I smiled as she came in and sat down on the edge of my bed. Brittany slept in the room across from mine. Fortunately, in a house as large as this one, we all had our own rooms.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I said, patting the space beside me. She scooted closer to me and I slipped an arm around her.

"Don't get mad at what I say, okay?" she warned me, and I frowned.

"Okay…"

Brittany took a deep breath. "I kinda kissed Sam."

I felt my stomach make a hollow pang. Imagining Brittany and Sam didn't hurt me like I thought it would, though. Instead of pain, I felt irritation. "You kissed him?"

"Well, he kissed me. Yesterday. It just…happened. While we were playing with Barbra."

Barbra was the chick Rachel had stepped on and broken the leg of. She named it after Barbra Streisand and has been caring for it ever since, trying to nurse it back to help. After a week, it actually was showing a bit of improvement. It was chirping more enthusiastically, anyway.

I didn't know what to say, so I just remained quiet and let Brittany continue speaking.

"I just wanted to talk to you about this before anything else happened. He told me he wants to take me out on a date, but I said that I needed to think about it first."

I watched her steadily, gauging her reaction as I said, "And what do you think?"

She looked up, the corners of her lips tilting up too. "I'm thinking that he's really sweet, and he's cute, and the kiss was really nice. He's funny and he makes me laugh. I'm thinking I want to go out on a date with him, too. But I don't want it to make stuff weird with us."

"Why would it do that?" I asked, averting my gaze from hers and picking at a stray thread in my blanket.

"Because we broke up, and now we're just friends. But we used to be together."

I sighed. When Brittany and I had been together, it had been good. But in all honesty, our relationship had run its course. I felt nothing but friendly toward Brittany now. Sometimes I contemplated starting things up with her again, but I think it was more out of my loneliness and her presence that I yearned for it. Being alone got old fast, and one night stands were only so fulfilling. Brittany had been different because we had felt different. We had been together. And when we kissed, it had always been so sweet and made me feel so good.

Inexplicably, Quinn suddenly rose unbidden to the front of my mind, and I felt heat prickle out over my entire body as I remembered the feeling of her lush lips beneath mind, the supple taste of her tongue. The fire that had all but consumed me in our hardly ten second long kiss had been more potent than any kisses between Brittany and I in our two years of dating, and I didn't understand that. Maybe it was just because Quinn was new, and our hatred for one another spurred our emotions higher. It didn't make sense, but it was a good enough explanation for now.

Still, I needed to be a good friend to Brittany, and me telling her she can't be with Sam just because I want to keep her on reserve for me in case I get lonely again would be incredibly selfish of me. So I took a deep breath, and steeled myself for what I was about to say.

"Britt, if Sam makes you happy, then you should go for it." Brittany held her gaze on mine, not appearing surprised. She knew me too well, knew that I would want her happy. Yet she's a good person and decided to ask me anyway. In that moment, I was reminded of all the reasons why I loved Brittany. Besides the fact that her body was crazy flexible and she could go forever in bed, she was also so sweet and kind. And for all those reasons still, I loved her now, but as a best friend. I would remain friends with her for the rest of my life, I was certain of that. "It might be a little awkward sometimes, just because I'm not used to seeing you together. But that's okay, and it'll go away with time."

Brittany smiled, and wrapped her arms around me in a gentle hug. "Thank you, Santana. I love you. And although I really like Sam and he's a good kisser, I will always miss our sweet lady kisses."

I laughed, and Brittany stood up. She pressed a light kiss to the tip of my nose. "I love you too, Britt." She left the room, and I went to bed.

In my dreams, I was plagued with dreams in which Brittany and Sam held hands and kissed as chickens ran circles around them, Matt chased me with a pitchfork, Kurt kept making dirty jokes about Blaine in overalls, and Quinn continuously flitted in and out of my dreams wearing that silver dress with her hair floating in sporadic golden tangles around her.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I'm off work today, thus the frequent updates, if you guys couldn't tell, haha ;)  
Anyways, thanks for the reviews so far, I love them! The comments are what makes writing worth it and spur me on in my writing. I hope you've enjoyed My Clarity so far and continue to do so :)  
**

**Chapter 13**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

You had to love Saturday mornings.

I yawned as I shuffled down the pristine, waxed hallway of my favorite of my two houses in Nebraska. I almost giggled as I passed by the huge mirror. I wore black lace lingerie—the kind that would've given Dayton a heart attack, if he'd been here. And then I wore fuzzy pink knee-high socks. An odd combination, but hey, I liked it.

The house was silent as I ambled into the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of Fruit Loops. After sprinkling sugar onto them, I sat down on the lavish couch in the living room and began to eat as she watched the season 1 finale of So You Think You Can Dance for the thousandth time. Her mood brightened even more as Joshua and Katie began to dance. I loved So You Think You Can Dance even more than Saturday mornings.

I had really needed a break from all that dreary ranch work. Or more specifically, a break from _Santana. _She was driving me up the wall. I had wanted to kill Leon and Abel yesterday when they'd hit me with water balloons. I had a plan in effect to get revenge on them. But what was I supposed to do about Santana?

I was so off balance. If this was just any girl, I would bitch her out, intimidate her and if that didn't work, just flash the fact that I was a millionaire and she'd back off. If she were a guy, I could just seduce and then humiliate him. But she's a girl, who I'm attracted to. What do I do with that?

God, that kiss…it had put my body through more in those ten seconds then any sex with Dayton had ever done. And that night, after hours of tossing and turning and failing to fall asleep, I took care of matters myself and even just the memory of that kiss had given me the best orgasm I'd ever had.

_Why was that?_ I wondered. There really wasn't anything particularly extraordinary about her, besides how incredibly attractive she was. Otherwise, I didn't know her well enough to even know if there was anything extraordinary about her. Still, I had kissed dozens of guys who were incredibly attractive too. Yet the kisses weren't even half as good as the one Santana and I shared...Could it be just that Santana was an excellent kisser? Because she was. But there seemed to be more to it…Maybe it was because we'd been arguing, and it had been so spontaneous...

Fifteen minutes later, after I relayed all of those thoughts to Lena on the phone, Lena said, "Or maybe it was because you knew you shouldn't be doing it."

I held the phone between my ear and shoulder as I scavenged the fridge for blackberries. "I don't know. It can't be just that." I popped a berry into my mouth as I wandered up to my bedroom.

"Oh, oh! I know! You should find out."

"Well, yeah, that's what I'm trying to do right now. That's why I called you."

"No, no, listen! Kiss her again. See if's the same."

I was speechless for a few seconds. "Are you crazy?" I finally demanded.

"Quinn!" said Lena exasperatedly. "What's the problem? It's just a kiss."

"It was not _just a kiss, _Lena," I hissed. "It was a freaking explosion. Not to mention that, hello, she's a fucking_ girl!"_

"So?"

"You know I can't do that. My dad would freaking kill me."

"How's he going to find out, Quinn? He won't," insisted Lena. "So just kiss her again. See if it's the same way. Maybe it can tell you something. Maybe you are gay. It's okay if you are!" she spoke quickly over my immediate protests. "It's okay if you are. God, Quinn, you don't think that Claire and Rhi don't think the same thing? And we all still love you, honey."

"It's not about that," I said stubbornly. "I just don't want to kiss her again. Nothing good can come out of it—"

"Oh, I see. You're just scared she'll reject you."

My jaw dropped. "What?! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of!"

"Prove it then," said Lena. "Have her kiss you. Invite her over tonight. But _she_ has to kiss _you_."

"Fine!" I said, outraged and fed up now. I calmed my breathing, forced myself to chill out. I could hear Lena laughing on the other line. "Fine," I repeated coolly. "I'll update you later."

"Alright." Lena's voice sparkled with merriment. "_Adios._"

I hung up the phone and glared around the room. _Santana Lopez,_ I thought as I strode to my closet, _Prepare to be crushed._

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Getting a random phone call from Quinn was not only weird, but creepy. I was still feeling out-of-body as I drove down the dark deserted road toward Quinn's house. She'd called an hour earlier and asked me if I could bring her dress back. I have no idea why, particularly at such a random time; it's just a Saturday evening.

I felt a little awkward parking Puck's beat-up Chevy truck (he had drove to Nebraska rather than flew) in Quinn's higher-league driveway. Nevertheless, I got out of the vehicle, shoved a hand into a jacket pocket, used my free hand to carry the dress, and walked to her door. When I knocked, I was answered with a, "Come on in!" I entered and Quinn's voice was distant. She was probably upstairs. "Santana?"

I peered around her dimly lit house. It was always so quiet here. "Yeah, I'm here...do you want me to put the dress in your room?" I called.

She came gliding down the stairs that led to the bedrooms wearing a sleek, blue satin robe. I swallowed, hard.

"Hi," she said, smiling at me. Her hair was loose and wonderfully wavy down her back. Unable to stop myself, I shifted my gaze from her head to her toes. Her feet were bare, her nails painted a deep indigo. I didn't know why, but seeing her bare-foot was kind of a turn-on_. What the hell._ "I'm just about to eat dinner, so the dress is going to have to wait. Are you hungry?"

_Hungry for something I'm pretty sure you don't want to give me. _"Sure." Confused and uncomfortably hot, I followed her into the kitchen. I watched as she bent down to check on the what seemed to be a ham, peering into the oven and coughing when smoke rose in cloudy columns that engulfed her. I was at her side at once, nudging her aside and wafting away the smoke before pulling the ham out with the flowered oven mitt that sat on the counter. "Jesus, you burned it to a crisp."

She impatiently waved her hand at me, moving to take my place and prod at the ham with the tines of a fork. "Well damn." She gazed at the burnt ham, seeming forlorn. "I didn't mean to."

I wrinkled my nose as the smell of burnt meat overwhelmed. "I can't believe you wasted a perfectly good ham."

She turned her eyes onto me, reproachful. "I suppose I'm just going to have waffles for dinner then. You want some?"

The collar of her robe was open just a little too wide, and I could see down it. _Did I want some? Hell yes._ Carefully, I stared at the ham. "No thanks."

She sighed as she moved around the kitchen, fixing herself some waffles. Finally, we both sat on the bar—yes she had a bar in the middle of her kitchen—and I was silent as I watched Quinn cut her waffle up. When she opened her mouth for a bite, I saw the tip of her pink tongue and felt my skin heat up another few degrees. I went back to staring at the ham.

"Mmm." She smiled at me again. _What was up with all her smiling? _"I love waffles. They're my favorite food."

I grunted noncommittally.

"What's yours?" she prodded.

"My what?"

"Your favorite food." She seemed amused as she took another bite of waffle.

"Oh. Um, I like Italian food. Spaghetti."

She made an expression of distaste. "Noodles. Ew."

"How can you not like noodles?" I demanded. "They're amazing. Chicken alfredo, fettuccini…" I trailed off when I realized I was staring at the butter that clung to her full lower lip. Once more, I fixed my gaze onto the burnt ham.

A couple minutes of silence passed as Quinn finished her waffles and then rinsed the plate off in the sink. She headed toward the stairs leading to the bedrooms. "Come on, you know where my room is."

I was reluctant as I followed her. The stairs creaked a little under my feet. Guess the house was older than it looked. I looked up and found that I was eye-level with her ass. To distract myself, I said casually, "So, uh, how's it going?"

She halted in her tracks, spinning around to face me with wide eyes. "How's what going?"

I blinked at her abnormality. "Uh…life? How have you been?"

She relaxed, turning to resume her walk. "Oh. Ah, I don't know, okay, I guess." We entered her room and she pointed at the closet door. "Just hang it up over there."

I lifted my eyebrows when I saw that her closet door was barely hanging on with just one hinge. Quinn watched expectantly as I bent down to observe it. "What the hell's up with your door? It looks like someone loosened it with a wrench or something—"

"But who would do that?" As her voice was right next to my ear, I turned my head to see her face, bright and smiling, less than an inch away from mine.

"No idea," I said quickly, rising to my feet. Quinn's brows drew down. "Hey, uh, do you have, like a wrench or toolbox anywhere? I can probably fix that for you real quick. I mean, I'm not really handy or anything but I think anyone can tighten a screw," I added, but the joking tone my voice had taken on was weak.

"Uh huh. Here." I waited as she retrieved a wrench from a drawer in the nightstand beside her bed. She had a wrench? My eyes narrowed. _Hm._ "There ya go."

My mind was whirring as I tightened the door back onto the hinges. She was being really nice, and I was here alone with her after she'd tried to share a dinner with me...Just what was she up to?

Five minutes later, the door was all fixed up. I stepped back into her bedroom, opened and closed it a few times to test it. Sturdy as a rock. "It's done." Quickly, I snatched the dress up and hung it up in the closet. Then I shut the door and I turned back to have my jaw just about drop to the floor.

Quinn was dusting the velvet curtain obscuring her window...wearing a bikini. A shimmering white string bikini. _What. The. Fuck._

I stammered, and she turned back with the smallest of smiles on her face. Was a nineteen year old girl really supposed to have a body like that?

"Oh, this?" Quinn gestured at her half-bare torso. "I was swimming in the indoor pool earlier. Do you like it?" She gave a little twirl. I felt all the blood in my body as inside, my thoughts screamed. _Calm down. She has something up her sleeve. She's not wearing sleeves. Shit._ "It's Italian thread. The best kind, supposedly, because it's so smooth." She stepped forward, took my hand and placed it over the side string on her left hip. She tilted her head, her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief and something else as she watched me. "Feel it?"

"Smooth," I managed to agree before stumbling back. The edge of her bed hit the back of my knees, causing me to sit down abruptly. Frozen, I looked up to see Quinn studying me with frustration evident in her eyes. Oh God, I was so confused. My head hurt. I thought we were supposed to be enemies again. One kiss, a one time thing. Leave it at that. I wasn't stupid, I knew what she was doing. _Trying to seduce me._

_But why?_

And why was I so tempted to let her?


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

With my heart thundering, I studied Santana sitting on the foot of my bed. She looked panicked, as though she didn't know whether to bolt or stay frozen. What was I supposed to do now? Maybe I should just give up. She obviously wasn't going to kiss me. Who was I even fooling? She hated me, for God's sake. I guess the only reason she had kissed me in the first place was that it really was just in the heat of the moment.

I gave a little sigh as I gathered my robe and pulled it on before easing down beside Santana. We were both silent for a long time before I finally said, "Sorry."

"Why were you…" her voice trailed away as she frowned at me, perplexed.

I lifted a shoulder, let it fall. After another minute of silence, I stood up, walked to the window and pulled back the curtain. The full moon bathed my bedroom in a silvery glow. "Sometimes..." I began slowly. "I do stupid things." I turned to face Santana, who was watching me warily. "I have...Lena and the girls tell me that I have a 'rebellious streak' in me. Janelle—Lena's mom—told me that I get it from my grandmother. I just do stupid things sometimes," I repeated, folding my arms beneath my breasts. I felt a little cold, suddenly. "Things like partying and staying out past curfew. Being late to school on purpose. Spending more money than I should. Picking fights." I shrugged. "I don't know why I do it. I just do."

"Have you ever thought that maybe it's because of your dad?" said Santana quietly.

I turned, looked out the window again. She was obviously meaning about his absence, how I never saw him. "Yeah." Santana didn't press me, so I guessed she knew that's all I could say. Instead, she said, "Well...if it helps at all...I don't talk to my dad either. I mean I'm not saying our dads are the same or anything, because I don't know your dad, and my dad is just a waste of space who cares about his own life more than his three kids."

I angled my head, curious. "You have siblings?"

"Well, technically. Two half-siblings. I've never met them though. They're my dad's, with some woman he ran off with…"

I nodded in understanding. "So you just live at home with your mom?"

"Yeah."

"What's she doing while you're here?"

Santana sat down beside me on the foot of the bed as she spoke, "She's working two jobs back home. My dad used to make a lot of money, but my mom doesn't, so we've been a little strapped for cash lately. I had an inheritance left over from when my grandfather died when I was about eight years old, and it's been helping me get through college. And Kurt's aunt is going to pay me for working here this summer, and I'll send the paycheck back to my mom. It's worth a little over a thousand."

A thousand dollars is all she got for working out here all summer? A thousand dollars was like my weekly allowance. Feeling sympathetic, I changed the subject. "So, any girlfriends waiting for you back home?"

"I don't hate you," she suddenly said.

"What?"

"I don't," she repeated. "Sure you annoy the hell out of me, but most people do. I mean, Rachel Berry is my roommate. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I think we should call a truce," she went on before I could interrupt. "I don't hate you. I think we should try being friends."

I considered this. I narrowed my eyes when a thought occurred to me. "If I agree...will you call off the demons?" When Santana merely looked blank, I said, "The twins. I know all about the deal you made with them. That's why I stuck it out. I even had a plan for revenge; I was going to glue them to a chair. But you should call them off now."

Santana grinned sheepishly. "Alright. Sorry, about...hey wait! You put that tack in my bed. Look!"

I was exasperated when she twisted, pulling her shirt up so she could show me the tiny scrape on her lower back. I felt a little stirring in my stomach as I ran my eyes over the smooth, tanned skin. When Santana turned, I caught a glimpse of her stomach before she lowered the shirt all the way down. _Whoa. She has a fucking six pack of abs? Holy hell!_

"So friends then? White flag on the war?" She held out a hand.

I nodded, feeling relieved that the twins would leave me alone now. I had also had a plan to put food dye in their food so their teeth would turn black, but I would back off now. Maybe. "Truce. Friends." I shook her hand.

She plopped her head down on my bed, lying there smiling at the ceiling. "That's kind of a relief, to know I won't have to deal with all your snide little comments anymore."

"What makes you think they'll stop?" I said in amusement.

Santana closed her eyes. "I have a psychic Mexican third eye. I know these things."

"Speaking of knowing things. You avoided the girlfriend question."

She puffed her cheeks out in a long breath. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Comprehension dawned. "Bad-break up huh?" I guessed. When she shrugged, I urged on, "What happened?"

"Same old song and dance. Left high school and grew apart."

She sounded so forlorn about it. It was a little sad, even if it did make me a tiny bit jealous. It didn't help that I still felt all stirred up inside from catching that glimpse of her muscles.

"It doesn't help that now she's dating Sam," she added.

Bracingly, I rubbed her arm. "I'm sorry. You want me to kick his ass for you?"

That dragged a chuckle out of her. "He's one of the stars of the football team, and he benches two-fifty. I think he would win."

"Oh, what, you don't think I can fight? I can fight." Rising onto my knees, I balled my hands into fists, held them at the ready. "I used to be captain of the cheerleading squad and the gymnastic squad before I got kicked off for skipping. That takes a lot of strength and work, you know. And besides, brains over brawn. I could take him," I joked.

Grinning, Santana sat up, gripped my fists and lowered them. "He's not a total idiot. And why would you skip games when you're a captain?"

"Used to be, " I corrected. "And I make all A's too, buddy, got news for you. I rule in English. Words are my thing. And I would skip because I didn't want to go run around doing summersaults for hours at a time when my hangover was so bad that I could barely walk."

Santana arched a brow. "Hangover? Guess you were a wild child, huh?"

I tried to suppress a smile as I sat up straighter, placed a hand over my heart. "I quit. I am now a good kid."

Santana snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Really!" I persisted. "I am. Mostly."

"Mostly?" she laughed. "What does that mean?"

I tilted my head, the corners of my lips curving upward. "Well it's a constant struggle, you see. I've discovered that I have a bad personality. It's hard to be a good kid when you have a bad personality, you know."

"I bet. Just how do you have a bad personality, Princess?"

I know I shouldn't do this, but I couldn't resist. I leaned toward her, dropping my voice to a whisper. "I like things that I shouldn't." I watched as those brown eyes of hers darkened. My stomach fluttered even as it became a little harder to breathe. Hm. Maybe I could get her to kiss me after all. Slowly, I touched a fingertip to her wrist, slid it to her shoulder and back down again. "You want to know what?"

Smirking slightly, as though excited by this game of teasing, Santana tilted her head, nodded.

God, I really shouldn't be doing this. It was against everything I stood for inside. I had been ignorant and idiotic earlier when I set out to seduce her into kissing me. It was different now that I had thought over the consequences and knew I shouldn't be doing this. I couldn't be doing anything with a girl. I didn't _want_ to be doing anything with a girl. I was straight.

Oh, but God, she made me _so_ wet.

I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I inched closer to her. "There are a lot of things. Partying, that's one. I used to go out and party every night. I stopped when Janelle, Lena's mom, remember, yelled at me for it. Sometimes I take really long showers, just to run the water bill. Sometimes I leave all the lights on in the house to run the electricity bill higher." I jerked my head in response to Santana's questioning expression. "It bugs my dad, even though we have more than enough money to spare."

She forced a smile and made to slide away from me, but I only followed. "Is that all, then?"

I shook my head. "Uh uh. Sometimes, I borrow Lena's clothes. Without permission." I felt the muscles in Santana's shoulder quiver beneath my very, very light touch. "Sometimes, when Dayton is in a business meeting, I call him and start talking dirty. Just for the satisfaction of knowing I made him squirm in a roomful of people."

"Sometimes, you kiss someone else at your best friend's party even though you have a boyfriend." Santana's eyes were narrowed. Okay, maybe I couldn't get her to kiss me.

"If you count Dayton as a real boyfriend. Which I don't."

"Really. Why's that." Santana stared at me flatly.

I shrugged. "He's boring."

"Boring? How is he boring? You're probably just too restless."

I inched closer. "I am a restless person. Sometimes I get so bored, I have to find ways to occupy myself."

I watched her throat move as she swallowed. Her eyes flickered as though she were arguing with herself. She must've lost, because after a beat she asked, "How?"

I sank my teeth down into my lower lip so I wouldn't kiss her. She had to kiss me. "I could tell you. But it would be better if I showed you."

She was quiet as she observed me. "We're friends, remember?"

I drew back a little as the fact of the statement stung me. "Yes. Yeah. I remember. Friends."

We both nodded and exchanged a quick smile before she fixed her gaze on the floor and I fixed mine on my hands in my lap. I felt itchy everywhere. My stomach felt like it was being sucked in. I bit my lip harder. I glanced up at her, saw her watching me.

Well, I never had been very good at following the rules.

I dipped my head down and up to press my lips to hers. The moment was suspended for hardly five seconds. Then I withdrew, and felt blood burn my cheeks as I looked unseeing at my lap. I just kissed Santana. God, I had kissed her. Lena totally won. And if that wasn't embarrassing enough, now Santana wasn't even talking to me. What the hell was her problem? Why did she have to go and—

My thoughts were interrupted when Santana jerked me half into her lap and smashed our lips together. I didn't think this time. I reacted instinctively.

I basically did my best to climb my way up her body as my mouth ravished hers. Though I wasn't quite sure how we got there, suddenly she was on her back and I was atop her, kissing her avidly while my knees straddled her waist. Then she gripped me by the shoulders, rolled so that I was beneath her, and all at once, her hands were everywhere. Suddenly my robe was open—somewhere along the way I had managed to remove one of my arms from it. One of Santana's hands was sliding from the inside of my thigh upward while the other—well, the other was busy tugging at the knot that tied my bikini top together. My own hands were tugging at her shirt, desperate to feel flesh, my nails scraping against her jeans and the skin of her stomach, those rock-hard muscles quavering beneath my fingertips when abruptly, she froze over me, which gave me enough time to screw my head back on straight and resume conscious thought, consequently freezing beneath her.

At once, we both turned and sat up, taking in deep drags of breath.

"So yeah, just friends," she said in a ragged tone.

"Yep," I gasped.

My chest was heaving with the effort to gulp down oxygen. The silence spreading between us was filled with a ridiculous amount of awkward tension. The places on my body where her hands had been were tingling.

"Um, I should be going," she said.

We both stood so suddenly that we knocked heads. We sat back down just as abruptly.

"Ouch," I said, and lay down as my head spun.

"Are you okay?"

I blinked the stars out of my vision, focused my gaze up on Santana, who was bent over me, an expression of concern on her face. There was a small red cut on her jaw. A crease appeared between my brows.

"Did I scratch you?" I muttered, and reached up to gently touch my thumb to the cut. Slowly, I dropped my hand when I noticed the way her eyebrows lifted, the way her gaze intensified on me. A strange feeling, one I rarely felt, came into me. A kind of longing. I relaxed, and seemed to sink into the mattress. "Santana..." I reached up, gently cupped her face in my hands. Slowly brought her down to me while I tilted my head up. My eyes became hazy, closed, as I touched my lips to the tiny cut.

A sigh tumbled out of me as I drew back, opened my eyes again. So strange. So unbelievably strange. I never had this kind of sweet ache in me before.

I stared up at Santana, into her dark eyes, and I knew that there was some kind of war raging inside her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Quinn Fabray was too tempting.

That was the problem. She was too damn tempting.

_Just look at her,_ I thought desperately. She was lying beneath me, her golden curls spread out in wild tumbles over the sheets, her cheeks flushed, her lips pink and plump, just waiting for me to—

But I shouldn't.

_Should I?_

Impulse won over rationality. I lifted a hand, placed it on her cheek.

"Quinn..." I murmured, bending my head. Her eyes were wide, luminous, a shimmering dark emerald. They were fixed on me with a piercing kind of absorbency. "For just a minute, let's pretend nothing bad can happen out of this. Okay?" I said firmly when she only stared at me. "Pretend that Matt wouldn't kick my ass, that we are more than friendly strangers with annoying chemistry, and that this isn't considered bad. Pretend I'm a guy. Okay?"

She blinked, nodded. Took a shaky breath. "Okay. Now kiss me."

"Okay."

I lowered my head, closed my eyes. Placed my mouth on hers.

Sweet, yielding, a lush mouth melting beneath mine. A lazy sweep of the tongue, and then I was in bliss.

I tilted my head to angle the kiss, deepen it. Deepen it until her head was pressing down into the mattress. I felt the hitch of her caught breath, felt the unsteady tremors of her hands when she put them to the back of my neck so she could bring me even closer, impossibly closer.

My hands moved beneath her robes before I could even give it conscious thought, and suddenly Quinn and I were kissing and groping just as furiously as we had been before.

I ripped back from her, stumbled to my feet.

"Um." I dragged breath into my lungs. "I'm sorry. See you at work on Monday." I turned blindly, walked and almost ran into the door. "Bye," I said before flying out of her house.

What the hell had I managed to get myself into now?

I was furious with myself as I drove back home. Just what the hell had I been thinking? I had just _made out _with Quinn on her _bed _while she'd worn practically _nothing! _What would've happened if her cutting my stomach with her nail hadn't jolted me to my senses? What would've happened if we'd kept going? Well I knew what would've happened, obviously. And then after that?

I couldn't sleep, of course. The clock had slowly ticked its way to the next morning, and I hadn't slept a wink. God, Quinn really had a way of getting under a person's skin. The next day I just stumbled around like a zombie, my stomach uneasy as I wondered how Quinn would treat me the following day.

As it turns out, I'd been worrying over nothing.

The moment Quinn walked in through the kitchen door, wearing a blue tank top and a mini-skirt with black flip-flops, her eyes found me and she smiled. "Hey Santana." I lifted my brows, watching as she began to put away the eggs she'd collected from the chicken coop. She sighed and turned, still smiling at him, after she'd finished. "It feels good out today, doesn't it?" A little overly relieved, I gave her three enthusiastic nods. She began walking toward the door. "Alright, well, I'm going to go get the paint out. Later."

I nodded once more. "Later."

I was staring after her when Finn—who'd been standing in the doorway behind me, came to my side with a slightly dumbfounded expression on his face. "What was that?" he wondered.

"What was what?"

"That." He gestured to where Quinn had been standing. "She was...nice."

I half-shrugged as I opened the fridge and withdrew a bottle of water. "We decided to try to be friends."

Puck, who had appeared when Finn had, snorted. "Let's see how long that lasts."

Ignoring that comment, I walked outside and drank my water as I watched Rachel, Billy, Leon, Abel and Brice feed the chickens. Brice made the mistake of letting the chicken eat from his hand, and as a result, the chicken clipped a side of his finger with its beak. I hurried over when Brice began to cry.

"A chicken pecked Brice's finger," said Billy immediately. Rachel knelt down beside Brice and I hovered behind her.

"I know, I saw. Brice, now, why would you let it eat out of your hand? You know you're supposed to throw the feed on the ground," said Rachel, but lightened the scold with a soft, sympathetic voice.

Leon snickered. "I can't believe he's crying."

Abel echoed his brother's snigger and said, "What a baby."

Brice began to cry all the harder at that, his hand consequently shaking so that Rachel and I couldn't see the cut.

"Here, lets take him inside," I told Rachel in a low voice. I gathered Brice in my arms and straightened. He was ten years old and heavy as hell despite how skinny the kid was. "You two get back to work." I said firmly to the twins, giving them a meaningful look that clearly meant _shut the hell up. _I turned to Billy, who was watching his crying cousin with somber eyes. "You go tell Matt that we're running out of hay for the horses." I waited until Billy scampered off, and then turned to Rachel. "Can you finish the feeding, Rach?" She nodded, and I made my way back to the kitchen.

"Alright, kid," I said as I set Brice down on the table. His little face was tear-streaked. "I need you to sit still while I get you a Band-Aid, okay?" Brice nodded, grave as though his leg were broken rather than the fact that there was a tiny cut on the inside of his index finger.

"Hey, is the little boy okay?" Quinn had just walked through the door, concern on her face.

"He's fine," I explained, puzzled. "I'm trying to find him a Band-Aid now."

Brice sniffled, his big brown eyes pouting up at Quinn. She bent down so she was eye-level with him. "Are you okay, honey?"

He knuckled the tear in the corner of his eye, sniffling again. "Mama says I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

"Quinn isn't a stranger," I told him as I wrapped the Band-Aid I retrieved from a cupboard on his finger. "She works here now. She's a friend." Quinn and I exchanged slightly rueful smiles. "You can talk to her. Your mom won't be mad, I promise."

Brice's shimmering eyes darted along Quinn's body, as though he were measuring her up. _Yeah buddy,_ I thought, _I did that when I first saw her too. Only not so innocently. _"You're pretty," commented Brice.

She tried and failed to hide her grin. "Thanks. You're pretty handsome yourself. How old are you, twelve?"

His thin chest puffed out a bit. "I'm ten. I really look twelve?"

She nodded. "Yes you do."

Shaking my head in amusement, I interrupted their compliment fest. "Okay Brice, we need to get back to work. Go find Billy and work with him."

"Where is he?" asked Brice as he hopped down to his feet.

"He should be cleaning up in the horse stables."

" 'Kay."

Brice ran off, slamming the kitchen door behind him. Quinn hitched herself up onto the table where he'd been sitting. She pulled out her iPhone and started texting as she said, "He's freaking adorable."

"I know." I chuckled a little, before sobering as I remembered something. "Do you think we should go tell Kurt about it? Or Matt?"

"Nah." Quinn shook her head. "It's no big deal."

I searched around the kitchen for my water bottle before realizing I must have dropped it when Brice got hurt.

"Is he Billy's little brother?"

I shook my head as I got down two glasses from the cabinet and poured water in them from the sink faucet. I handed one to Quinn. "I don't think so. But Kurt has too many cousins to even keep track of, so I don't know." After Quinn sipped her water, I said, "I almost didn't expect you to drink that. I figured you as the Evian type of person."

She arched an amused brow at me. "Did you know that Evian spelled backwards is Naive?" I grinned. "Exactly."

"Well, we should probably get back to work..." I started gravitating toward the door.

"Wait." Quinn repeatedly tapped her phone screen. "Here. Put your number in."

It was my turn to cock a brow at her.

"Friends have each other's numbers," she reminded me.

"Alright," I said, indulging her as I took the phone, put my number in. "Just don't start calling me for booty calls. Unless you pay cash upfront." When Quinn was silent, I winked at her. "Joke, Q. Here." I pulled my own phone out of my pocket, handed her the phone. When she gave it back to me, I saw that she'd written her name as "Quinn the Great". I snorted. "Humor. Ha."

She smiled, batting her long golden lashes at me. "I'm a funny girl, Lopez. You should know that by now, even though your own sense of humor is rather lacking."

I held the door open for her. "Fuck you, Princess," I said teasingly.

She passed by me and I got a whiff of that incredible perfume she always wore. She shot mea wink over her shoulder. "You would."

_No I wouldn't, _I lied cheerily to myself as I followed her out.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

My eyes fluttered open as my cellphone alarm interrupted my sleep. Disoriented, I rolled over and shut it off, then sat up in my lavishly comfortable king size bed.

It was the third of July today. I'd been working at the ranch for officially one month now. That was crazy to think, too. Sometimes it felt as if I'd been working there forever. And sometimes it felt as if I'd only just started. Yawning, I laid down again, figuring I had a good five minutes to just rest before I had to get ready.

I only had a month to go, I realized. Santana had told me a few days ago that Matt thought the house would be fixed by August. So that meant in four weeks, I wouldn't have to bother with Santana or any of the rest of them ever again.

But I would, I confessed. Santana and I had become close friends over the course of the past three weeks. I didn't want to shut her out of her life. Though part of that might be because I...well, I felt things for her now. More than the initial lust. I _wanted _her. I wanted to try to be more than friends with her. But how was I supposed to tell her that? I didn't want to ruin what we now had. It had been so hard just to achieve that. She had become one of my best friends. I felt like I could trust her with anything. If we dated, and it didn't work out, things would forever be awkward and we could never be like we were now. Plus, if my father found out I were with a girl, I would be kicked out in a heartbeat…

Depressed at the thought, I sank down farther into my bed. If I didn't feel so strongly about her, I would suggest being friends with benefits. But I wanted everything with Santana, not just the dirty benefits. I wanted a relationship with her. A relationship _along_ with the dirty benefits. Smiling a little, I closed my eyes and allowed myself a few vivid daydreams about those benefits...

And jolted awake an hour later to realize I was late. I got ready in hyper speed, skipping breakfast and driving to the ranch thirty miles over the speed limit. I was so grateful that there were never any police out here patrolling the winding roads.

"I'm late, I know, I'm sorry!" I said hastily as I burst into the kitchen. To my surprise, everyone—Matt, Burt, Carol, Tommy, Kurt, Rachel, Finn, Puck, Sam, Brittany, all of Kurt's cousins and some other people I had never seen before—were all piled into the kitchen, most sitting around the table and some standing. Conversation quieted and every face turned to me. I felt blood rush to my cheeks. Santana, who stood over the stove wearing an apron—_wtf?—_looked up at me.

"Everyone, this is Quinn Fabray." Santana announced to the room.

The strangers all smiled and nodded at me. Santana reached over, grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me to her side.

"What's going on?" I whispered.

"You're late," she said, handing me an egg. She cracked one of her own, tipping the contents into the sizzling pan.

"You're cooking?" I said in astonishment. Pancakes, bacon, sausage and fried potatoes were piled in heaps around her.

Santana gave me a crooked grin. "This is one of my rare talents I've never gotten to mention to you. I'm an excellent cook."

I cracked the egg she'd given me and then watched as she stirred them in the pan with the finesse of a fine chef. _Why was she so damn attractive in that apron? _I realized, annoyed at the fact. My cheeks still scarlet, I avoided her gaze, staring instead at the food.

"Sorry I didn't think to text or call you. I don't know how I forgot to mention it to you. Did you not here it from anyone else?" When I shook my head, she clucked her tongue. "Damn it. I'm sorry, Q. Everyone has been flying in and got here around the same time last night." By everyone, she was referring to her friends from school. When Santana had been in high school, not only had she been the captain of her own cheerleading squad, but she'd also been in Glee club, which was how she'd met most of her lasting friends. Some of them were planning to come down to the ranch, but had other things to do first. "Last night, everyone decided to come over for breakfast today. I didn't even think to warn you. I'm so used to you being here it's like you're one of the family."

_Great_, she thought in a grumbled hopeless tone. Now she considered me family. "Who are all these people?" I asked, pleased with my nonchalant tone.

"Give me a minute and I'll introduce you."

It took more like fifteen minutes, actually. Once everyone was at the table, the prayer had been said and everyone had dug in, Santana walked me around the table to meet members. I met Mercedes, a curvaceous black woman whose large gold hoops she wore caused her to jingle as she moved. She was very friendly, and even pulled me into a hug. Mike and Tina were both Asians, and I felt guilty because I thought they were brothers and sisters until Santana told me they've been dating for the past three years. Santana hadn't been particularly close to them in high school though, so it wasn't surprising that she hadn't mentioned them much before. I finally met Blaine, who was much more handsome then I had expected; I had heard a lot about him from Kurt for the past month, and I was happy Blaine was finally here, since Kurt had been so excited. Apparently the reason it took Blaine so long to come here was because he had an audition for Nyada he was preparing for, and couldn't come here until he had taken it. It had gone pretty well, apparently. The reason Mike and Tina took awhile is that they were running an Asian camp again, or something. And Mercedes arrived now because she had a job working as a Sunday School teacher for the first two months of summer.

The only person who didn't seem happy to meet was the twin's mother April, and I was pretty sure that was because, according to Santana, I had taught her children some colorful vocabulary words. _(Whoops.)_

Since the kitchen was so crowded, Santana and I took our food to the stairs in the half-dilapidated living room. I knew at first bite that Santana was an amazing cook. The food seemed to melt in my mouth, exploding in a euphony of sensation.

"Oh my God, these eggs are amazing."

Santana grinned. "Told you."

"Since when are you such a good cook?"

"Since my dad left and my mom was always working two jobs and I was left home alone all the time." She shrugged. "It was either learn how to feed myself, or starve."

I narrowed my eyes as I pointed my fork at her. "What other hidden talents do you have that I don't know about?"

She took a bite of the bacon, thoughtful. "I'm athletic."

"Hm. You'll have to prove that one. I'll challenge you to a race one day." Geez, the sausage was even better than the eggs.

"What about you?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I can sing alright."

Santana nudged my ribs with her elbow. "Whatever."

"No, really!" I insisted. "I took singing lessons when I was little. And violin lessons, because my mom used to play."

"Well, why didn't you tell me that sooner?" she asked, enthusiastic now. In all honesty, I hadn't told her before because I didn't like to sing in front of people, not to mention Santana was an incredible singer herself, and she intimidated me a little. All of them did. Santana, Rachel, Kurt, Finn, Sam, Puck, even Brittany could sing, though she wasn't as good as the others.

"I don't know." I'd rather not get into a long sob story about how I used to sing with my mom and stopped when she died.

She smiled at me. "You'll have to sing for me sometime. Anything else?"

I slanted her a mischievous look. "I could only tell you if we either had been dating for longer than three months, or if I could kill you afterward."

She lifted her brows, one of her cheeks dimpling in a smile. "That's interesting. Well which is it?"

"Which is what?" I took another big bite of sausage, pretending I didn't know what she was hinting to.

Santana nudged me again. "What do you want to do, date for longer than three months, or kill me after you tell me?"

I tried to suppress a smile as I considered her. "You have to answer that."

"Oh I do?"

I nodded. "Yes. See, it doesn't matter to me. But you should know that the dating would be longer, whereas I could just tell you and kill you today."

Santana picked up the buttered roll from her plate, took a bite, her eyes never leaving mine. "But how do I know if it would be worth it?"

I snatched the roll, watched her as I stole a bite. "You'd just have to trust me."

"Can I do that?" she said, and I had the feeling she was being completely serious about this one.

I handed her back the roll. "Yes."

I was surprised when she suddenly turned, put both our plates on the step below our feet. She took my hands between both of hers, gripped them. "Then let's do it."

I blinked, bewildered. "Do what?"

"The three month plan," she said patiently.

My mouth sagged open in shock. Whoa. Hadn't been expecting that.

"Go out with me tonight."

"Tonight?" I said faintly.

She nodded vigorously. "Tonight. We can go watch that movie you've been wanting to see, The Heat."

I just gaped at her for another moment before regaining conscious thought. I took a deep breath to steady myself. Santana wanted to go on a date. Tonight. Me. On a date. _With a girl._

My father wouldn't find out, surely…

"Well, okay," I managed.

Santana smiled as she stood, gathered our empty plates. "I'll pick you up at six." A crease suddenly came upon her brow and she didn't move for a moment as though she were hesitant about where to go. Then, swiftly, before I could hardly blink, she bent down, touched her lips to mine in a chaste kiss. When she drew back, she grinned. "Just wanted to see if I could do that without trying to take your clothes off."

As she walked away, I remembered my thoughts from that morning. "Santana," I called. She looked back. Uncharacteristically nervous, I clasped my hands together. "Are you sure about this?"

Santana smiled again, nodded. I weakly returned the smile as she disappeared into the kitchen.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

"Will you stop smiling so much? You're creeping me out."

I chuckled at Rachel's words. She sat in the chair across from me, glaring at me while she stroked the fluffy yellow chick on her lap. Despite her stern expression, the fact that a chicken named Barbara was in her lap made the whole thing rather hilarious, and it was hard not to laugh at her. "Sorry," I lied cheerily.

"You are not." she said, sounding amused. "So what's the reasoning behind it? It's Quinn, isn't it?" When my face split into a grin again, Rachel confirmed her suspicions with a nod. "I knew it. I knew you liked her! You like her, right?"

I nodded, trying to hide my grin by resuming his painting of the finished wall. "Yeah. She's great."

"She's ran her car through the house, though," added Rachel with a hint of solemnity.

"That was her?" came Blaine's voice as he and Kurt both entered the room. When I nodded, Blaine put his hands over his heart and shook his head, smiling.

"I think that's romantic."

"Shut up," I joked.

"No, seriously." Blaine came around the couches and into the living room, leaning against the fireplace. "Think about it. You have a thing with this random gorgeous girl you met for the first time when she nearly killed you with her car. It's like a romantic comedy."

"Or a horror film," jested Kurt.

I rolled my eyes, but Blaine was smiling. "I think it's cute," he shrugged.

One of Rachel's brows winged up. "If she's driving tonight, I think she better take some driving courses first."

"She fell asleep, Rach," I muttered; I wasn't about to argue with Rachel though, because I totally agreed with her.

"Well she—"

"Shhh, she's coming!" ushered Kurt, waving his hands. All three of us fell silent. I felt my heart skip a beat when Quinn walked into the room, carrying two buckets of paint. Her lips curved when she met my gaze, and in response my heart pounded.

"Here's the rest of the paint," she said, setting the buckets down beside me. She glanced around warily at the silence; Rachel, Kurt and Blaine were all staring at the two of us as though we were an interesting movie. "Um...and Matt told me to tell you that we were finishing up early today," She lifted her brows pointedly as though asking, _Why are they doing that?_

"Okay, good." I lifted my own, as though saying, _Just go with it._

Quinn bit her bottom lip in an effort to suppress a smile. "Alright, well. I'm going to go home, then, I guess. Have to get ready." Her eyebrows jerked up in a suggestive, teasing manner. "Got a hot date tonight."

I grinned. "Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, " I called as she began to walk away.

She looked at me over her shoulder, winked. "Guess there's not too much I _can't do_, then."'

I swallowed, trying hard to reign in my breathing. Her comment had made me breathless and, if I was being honest, had turned me on a little as well.

Rachel pounced at once. "Oh my God, you two so like each other!"

I shrugged, trying to play it off casual "But she has a date with someone else tonight, so..." I barely managed to hide my snicker when Blaine's and Kurt's lips both moved into a pout.

"You better break it up then," said Blaine as he and Kurt held one another's hands and walked toward the kitchen.

"Who said I wasn't trying already?" I teased.

Kurt shot me a look over his shoulder that told me that I was not being convincing at all, and he knew exactly whom Quinn's date was with tonight. I shot him a not-so-apologetic smirk, and he rolled his eyes, smiling, before turning around again and walking out of the room with Blaine.

When they left, Rachel stood. She walked over to me, clutching Barbara to her chest as she wrapped one arm around my shoulders in a quick hug. "Have fun tonight. Stay out of trouble."

"Don't I always?"

She patted my cheek before turning, retrieving her jacket and heading out the door. "You wouldn't be so much fun if you did."

I fully grinned as I resumed painting. God, I adored my friends.

* * *

**I can't do it. I'm sorry.**

That was the text I received a few minutes ago. I stared down at my phone, a little pissed, a little sad. I sat on the edge of my bed in my bedroom. I was already dressed, wearing a deep purple cocktail dress and clutching my wallet. Disappointment tasted bitter in my mouth.

Was I really that surprised, though? Quinn had seemed scared when I asked her out. Sure she'd seemed enthusiastic too, but that much fearful trepidation before a date was never a good sign. I stared at her message, rereading it again and again. Can't do what? Date me, or date a girl?

She defined herself as straight. That fact alone confused the hell out of me. How can she define herself as exclusively straight, yet kiss me the way she did? Then I was reminded of myself. Up until the end of my sophomore year of high school, I had claimed to be straight, too. Had even dated a dozen or so guys. I wasn't straight, obviously, but I had wanted to be. And I was terrified at any idea of even considering that I wasn't straight, mostly because I didn't want to deal with the consequences of that. But when Brittany and I started to get even closer, I grew tired of hiding all the time, and so I finally admitted to myself that I was a lesbian. That was the first step. A week later, I told everyone else. And I did receive the consequences I knew I would. My abuela disowned me. Countless people mocked and insulted me. But there was some good that came with the bad. The Cheerios didn't treat me any differently. The Glee club rose to my side. Some of them I had been really rude to in my freshman year of high school, and I felt even guiltier when they all stood by me so readily to protect me and back me up. But I realized that they now recognized the reason I had been so rude to them in the first place; I hadn't been comfortable with myself, and as a result had lashed out at those around me instead.

I thought of Quinn, and how rude she was when I first met her. Obviously, she was having some issues with her own sexuality. And I of all people couldn't judge her for that.

**It's okay, Q. We'll just have to rain check.**

I sent the message to her before rising to my feet, undressing and then slipping pajamas on. As I crawled back into bed, my phone vibrated with another message.

**Maybe.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Wow everyone, thanks for all the awesome comments! You guys make my day. **

**Also, regarding someone's comment that I show Santana's point of view too much and not enough of Quinn's, that is deliberate. I'll tell you why later in the book :)**

**Enjoy, and let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 18**

* * *

**Quinn's POV **

I moaned, rolling over in bed when a sound like a gunshot went off outside. These fucking fireworks were driving me crazy. I cracked an eye open, seized my phone from the bedside table and glared at the time. It was seven in the morning. _Why _were people doing fireworks at _seven_ in the fucking morning? My phone clattered as I threw it back down, and I pulled a pillow over my face to muffle the sounds from outside.

I jumped, startled, when what felt like hardly a minute later my pillow was yanked off me. I sat up abruptly, alarmed in my half-asleep state, and looked around wildly. I was astonished to see Santana standing right over my bed, sniggering, clutching my pillow in one of her hands.

"Santana?" I said, my voice thick with sleep and confusion. I watched her eyes darken at my voice, and felt a little tingle shoot through my body in response. "What are you doing here? Um. How did you get in my house?"

"I used the extra key I found under the flower pot on the porch." She smiled at me before smacking me with the pillow. She was probably aiming for my stomach or my thighs and couldn't tell where they were under the blanket, but either way, I don't think hitting me in the crotch was her intention.

"Oh. Okay. Um. Not to be rude, but, what are you doing here?"

"Get up!" she ordered, smacking me with the pillow again. _Am I a kink for kind of liking this?_

I snatched my cell phone off the stand again. It was nine in the morning, still too early in my opinion for a day off work. "Why?" I whined. "I want to sleep…"

"You're coming over. Fourth of July party. You're invited," she added, slapping me with the pillow again.

"I was supposed to go watch a movie with Lena, Rhi and Claire tonight," I insisted, closing my legs tightly so the pillow wouldn't hit me in such a sensitive spot.

"Tell them to come too. It's going to be fun, we're going to have karaoke, and then later tonight we're having an open bar. Matt's actually going to let us drink. Can you believe that?" She grinned.

"I can't believe that," I said honestly. Matt seemed so strict, it was impossible to imagine him letting anyone break any rules. But I guess it shouldn't be too surprising, because I'd seen him borrowing a cigarette from Puck once before.

"Just text them and tell them they're invited too. Can they sing?"

Laughter bubbled out of my lips as I thought of Rhi and Claire's singing. "Um, no. Claire sounds like a dying cat, and Rhi is even worse. Lena's not bad, though. She sings for her church choir."

"Okay, good. Have them come along."

"Can you stop hitting me in the vagina with that pillow?" I yelped when she hit me yet again.

She smirked, but she set the pillow down on the bed without protest. "Only if you come over tonight."

"They're going to be pissed that I cancelled the movie on them," I grumbled.

One of Santana's eyebrows winged up. "Take a rain check on that too, then."

Guilt swamped over me. That was obviously a reference to the fact that I cancelled our date…which I felt terrible about. But I couldn't go on a date with a girl…

"Alright," I agreed, wincing under an onslaught of shame. "What time?"

"Around six or seven, whenever."

"Okay," I sighed. "We'll be there. But I'm not singing!"

She turned, rolled her eyes at me as she glided across the room toward the door. "Whatever, Q. I'm going to make you some waffles.

That perked me up instantly. "That's more like it."

* * *

Santana left a few hours later to go get ready for the party. Before she left, she told me I could dress casual, but dress nicely if I cared about what I looked like in the pictures that were certain to be taken. So I would definitely be dressing up today.

Lena was in my room with me helping me pick out what to wear, while Rhi and Claire were both lounging in the bathroom, taking turns using the hairspray.

"What about this?" I asked, exposing a blue dress to Lena.

She shook her head. "I think that's a little too fancy for a party with karaoke and booze out on a farm."

"It's a ranch, not a farm. I think." I held up another dress. "What about this one?" It was shorter than the blue one, and sparkled gold.

"Too fancy again. Try a skirt," she suggested.

I sighed and dug around in my closet for a few minutes until finally pulling out a few different skirts. "What about this? It's Chanel." Lena shook her head, and I pulled out a new one. "Versace?"

"No."

"Valentino?"

"Nope."

"What about this? It's Prada and one of my favorites," I said, desperately lifting the spliced vintage skirt.

"Hmm." I waited patiently as Lena considered it, her dark eyes studying the skirt intently. Finally, she said, "Do you still have that Prada dress you borrowed from Rhi last Christmas?"

"Oh!" I knew what she was talking about, and it would be perfect. "I think so. It's in my other closet."

I hurried over to the huge closet I reserved for cocktail dresses and evening gowns and rummaged through the countless dresses hanging up until I finally found it. It was a cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline and a plated bottom hem that ended about mid-thigh.

After I put it on and Lena helped me zip it up, she took a step back, smiled and sighed. "The azalea color is perfect. Festive, too."

"Thanks." I smiled as I observed myself in the mirror. My hair was straightened and hung down my back in a golden sheet. My makeup was subtle and natural. My body looked great in this dress, particularly when I slipped into my heels, even though I had really wanted to wear my Brian Atwood Ailith cutout mesh & suede thigh-high boots tonight. Still, I would knock Santana right out of her socks.

_Wait a minute._ I can't do that. _I'm not going to do that._ I had made the decision when I had texted her cancelling our date. Maybe I am attracted to her a little, I can't deny that. But I was the daughter of Russell Fabray, and despite how much of an asshole he was, I wasn't going to be his lesbian daughter, cut off from inheritance and homeless. So tonight, no matter how badly I wanted to flaunt my looks, I wasn't going to, because it wasn't right to lead her on. Plus I really didn't need to get into any more uncomfortable situations with her…particularly since the one we got into three weeks ago (the one involving her and I making out intensely on my bed while I wore nothing but a bathing suit) made things so much more difficult.

"Are you excited about tonight?" asked Lena, ripping me out of my thoughts.

"What? Oh. Yeah, it should be pretty fun. Just wait until you hear everyone sing."

"Are they good?" inquired Lena.

I nodded as I absently applied more mascara to my lashes. "They're insane."

"Who's the best?"

"Either Santana or Rachel. Hard to say because their styles are so different. Rachel has a more Broadway-ey voice while Santana's is more…jazzy. It's hard to explain," I added defensively when Lena snickered.

"I'll just have to find out myself tonight. Are they as good as you?"

I blushed, despite myself. "Better."

"Really?" said Lena genuinely. "I haven't heard you in years, but I remember you being pretty good."

I shrugged noncommittally.

"You should sing tonight."

"No way," I said, and the look I shot Lena in the mirror quieted her immediately.

Finally, we were all piled in my car and then headed for the party. Fireworks had been going off all day, and now that it was growing darker out, were vivid bursts of color in the sky. It was hard not to gape up at them as I drove down the long, winding road to the ranch.

As we all climbed out of the car, Puck came running over to us, a beer bottle in his hand.

"Hey! Quinn Fabray, here at the partay!"

I rolled my eyes at Lena, who shook her head, smiling.

Puck's eyes immediately zeroed in on Rhi. I couldn't really blame him, since the cocktail dress she wore had a plunging neckline that exposed the curves of her rather large breasts. "What's cookin', good lookin'?" Puck slid right up to her side, slipping an arm around her waist to help her out of the car.

She batted her long lashes at him. "Something too hot for _you_ to handle, Mohawk boy."

Right on cue, Claire sidled up to Puck's other side. This was the classic Rhiannon/Claire duet: they could take down any man they met, especially when they worked as a team.

"I can always warm you up first, you know, to prepare you." She batted her lashes at Puck now, and I knew he was a total goner.

Lena and I both snickered and rolled our eyes, linking arms as we began to walk up toward the house.

"Hey Fabray, your woman's waiting upstairs for you, says she needs you for something," called Puck from behind me.

I frowned, uncomfortably aware of Lena smirking at me. "Shut up," I told her, and we hurried on.

I introduced Lena to Rachel and Mercedes, the first people I ran into inside, and then headed up the stairs to Santana's room, guessing that was what Puck meant by upstairs.

"Hey," said Santana, yanking the door open before I could knock so fast that I stumbled into the room, nearly planting my face into Santana's chest. I balanced myself, and then goggled at her. _Holy—_

Did I say chest? I meant breasts. Because there they were. Her dress had a neckline that plunged down even farther than Rhiannon's. The tip nearly reached her belly button, surely…

I swallowed audibly, my entire body warm as I appraised Santana's body. I couldn't help myself. She was absolutely gorgeous. The dress she wore was skin-tight and black, her eyeliner was thick and curved upward at the end and the lipstick she wore was a bold red.

"Um. I thought we weren't dressing up that fancy?" I asked, a little stupefied. I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from her chest.

Judging by the slight smirk playing on her face, she knew she had my mouth watering. "I'm not dressed up that fancy, Q-ball. You should see my outfits back in New York. Kurt works for Vogue, so he's gotten me some sweet-ass dresses, for free."

"Oh," I said, which is all I could say because I hadn't really heard a word of what she just said. Chill out, I ordered myself, and snapped back to reality. "Um. What did you need me for?"

"What?" said Santana.

"Puck said you needed me."

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Her eyes were hooded, turned darker, as she reached over me, her arm brushing my shoulder as she pushed the door shut behind me. My stomach clenched, turned tight as her fingers closed around my wrist. But she only moved back, tugging me with her until we were both sitting on the edge of the bed. I sat still, baffled, as she pulled her iPhone out of her pocket and began shuffling through her ITunes library.

"I wondered if you would sing with me tonight?" She smiled as she held up her phone, flashed me a song. It was Poker Face by Lady Gaga. "This was playing in your car on the first day we worked together." The dread must have been showing on my face, because she precipitously shook her head and shut the phone off. "You don't have to. I mean, I totally understand if you don't want to."

She had put two and two together, seeing that I told her I used to sing with my mom and she knew my mom was dead.

"So seriously, if you're not comfortable with that, we don't have to sing together. It was just an idea. I wasn't sure if you would want to, which is why I asked you up here, in private. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

It had made me very uncomfortable. I shook my head. "Thanks for the offer, but…" My voice trailed away.

"You can't," she finished for me. The smile she gave me was sincere. "I understand. Okay, well, lets go light it up." She bent, pulled a large box nearly as long as she was out from behind her small bed. She grinned as she lifted it, showing me the huge artillery shells and tube that was wrapped snugly in the box. "Don't worry," she smirked as I bit my lip, grinning stupidly at the fireworks. I couldn't help but to be excited. I hadn't had a proper Fourth of July since I was a child. Santana tilted her head smugly, her black hair cascading over her shoulder. "We can share."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

As ridiculous as the idea of it all was, having a party out on a ranch with a bunch of people I hardly knew, I was having a blast. Literally.

The bottom of my dress was actually singed from a Roman Candle war I had with Santana. Rhi would probably be pissed when she found out, but for now I was safe, as she had snuck off with several cranberry vodkas, a pack of condoms and Puck a few hours ago and had yet to return. Lena had been chatting animatedly with Mercedes all night. Lena mentioned to me when we caught each other in the kitchen that she found it hilarious that the person she was getting along with best so far was the only other black girl at the whole party. I thought it was more the fact that they both sang for their church choir and had a few things in common, but the notion was pretty amusing.

I hadn't seen Claire in awhile either, and for a time I thought maybe she had snuck off with Rhi and Puck too. But I spotted her earlier cooing over Rachel's chicken with Brittany, so I guess she was having a good time too.

I was probably having the most fun, though. Santana and I were running everywhere, lighting whatever fireworks we could find. I had a bit of a fascination with smoke balls, twisting the fuses together and watching the colors mix as they bloomed into the air. Santana, however, enjoyed lighting bottle rockets and laughing as I yelped and dodged them whenever she shot them at me. And although I singed my own dress as I shot Roman Candles at her, I at least got revenge when one bulleted over her head so close she swore it burned her hair.

Santana had a daredevil streak, I learned, when she took me down to the pond and began lighting artillery shells and throwing them into the water just before they went off so they exploded, splashing us even from a far distance. We had to avoid the little boat that was tied in at the shore several feet away and hit the water only, which made it extra fun.

"Try it," she said, handing me a shell.

I held my tongue between my teeth as I lit it, and we both shrieked as I quickly flung it into the pond. I turned, flinching, but there was only a plopping sound as it landed in the water.

"You threw it too soon."

"Damn," I said, turning to look glumly at the ripples spreading in the water where the shell had dropped in.

"Here, do another."

I squeezed the shell in my hand, bringing the smoldering punk up to it. "Are you sure we should be wasting these like this? Don't you want to do them properly?"

"Q, I have like fifty. I spent a ridiculous amount of money on them, like two months' salary." She shrugged when I stared at her. "Oh well."

"You're an idiot," I said, shaking my head, but I lit the shell, waited a second until the fire crept up the fuse nearly to the end and my heart pounded, and then I chucked it at the water. This time it was too late, and before it could hit the water, blue sparks erupted, overtaking my vision as they bulleted toward me.

I lost my breath when Santana's arm slammed into my gut as she took me down. I didn't shriek this time, more like squeaked, and squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them, Santana was lying half over me, shielding me.

"You idiot," I repeated again, but I wasn't glaring up at her. I couldn't regain my breath, but for another reason entirely now. Santana's face was over mine, her hair framing my face like a dark, silky curtain. Her laughter at what I did faded as she looked down at me, and I looked up at her. Her lips were so red, so full, and so close...

Then she grimaced apologetically. I caught a whiff of smoke and some piquant perfume, Chanel maybe, as drew back and stood up. She gripped my hand and pulled me to my feet, and we both awkwardly patted the dirt off our dresses, avoiding eye contact with one another.

"So…shall we go light them like normal people?" I suggested, deliberately making my tone light and casual.

"That would probably be the best idea," she agreed, laughing nervously.

Santana gathered as many artillery shells as she could in her arms, and I held a couple in one hand while carrying the tube in my other hand. Then we walked up the hill in the darkness, heading toward where in the distance, lights were shooting up into the sky. As we came closer, we saw that Kurt and Blaine had lit a fountain.

Finn was next in line, and he lit an aerial repeater that we all watched shoot off a dozen or so times before it finally smoldered out. Then Santana and I went to the front; the fireworks were being shot from a piece of wood that lay on the ground. I placed the tube down, Santana dropped a shell into it, and I positioned myself to run as she held her punk to the fuse. When it lit, we both took off running a few feet away, laughing.

It burst a vivid silver in the sky, and I smiled. Why didn't I do this every year? Well, because after my mother died, it was just me and my father, and he was never home in the first place. So I would always go out with Lena, Rhi and Claire, to watch a movie or get our nails done. That was fun too, don't get me wrong, but we went out like that all the time anyway. It was nice to actually do fireworks on Independence Day for once.

After we lit several more, we stopped when Matt walked over, clutching a beer bottle by the neck with one hand and his girlfriend (some random brunette girl with an admittedly pretty smile)'s hand in the other.

"Hey, everyone, old man Cruser is about to start!"

"Yes!" Burt walked past us with his wife Carol, both of them smiling happily.

"What's going on?" I asked Santana, and she shrugged.

"Cruser is our neighbor, and he puts on a show every year. It's for his grandkids, but we can see the fireworks from the house, so we watch too. It's usually pretty good," said Kurt excitedly as, clutching Blaine's hand, he hurried toward the house.

"Huh. Let's go watch," said Santana, and I dropped the couple artillery shells I had left so we could head toward the house.

We had some time, apparently, so we both quickly washed the soot and dirt from our hands. Then we stood in the kitchen doorway; all of the chairs in the backyard were taken. After a few minutes, there was a loud boom that sounded, and I watched as a light shot up, over the hill where below I knew the pond was where Santana and I had thrown fireworks at. There was another boom as the light exploded, showering the sky with red and silver sparkles. Everyone made oohs and ahhs, and a second later another erupted in the sky, this time raining down gold, reminding me of a willow tree.

"Hey," came a whisper in my ear that sent my skin tingling. "I'm going to go watch from the pond. Fireworks look even better when you're on a boat."

I turned to look at her, and her brows lifted slightly, a corner of her lips quirking up in challenge. I smirked back. Like I wouldn't rise to a challenge.

We circled back through the house and around to start descending the hill, and though we didn't say it, I knew it was because we didn't want anyone to see us going off alone and think we were up to something. Especially Matt.

The water sloshed as we climbed into the boat. It was small, more like a canoe. Santana paddled us into the center of the lake, and we both sighed as we settled, lying on our backs and watching the lights explode in the sky almost directly above us.

"Hey," said Santana gently, and I lifted my head to look at her. Her arms were folded beneath her head, her face lifted up to the sky. "So, why did you cancel our date?"

I immediately blushed, and grew uncomfortable. "Um. Because, I told you. I couldn't do it."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she assured me. "I was just curious. You know, I haven't always been out and proud about my sexuality. It was hard, admitting I was lesbian. I would have argued you forever telling you I was straight. But now that I have come to terms with it, I'm like a million times better. I feel a million times better."

"Okay, but I don't see what that has to do with me. I _am _straight. I don't _like_ girls."

Santana looked like she was strongly fighting the urge to roll her eyes as she sat up, shaking the boat a little. "Quinn, I've kissed you twice now. Well, the second time was more like a lot of kissing happening at once." She smirked. "But either way. You don't kiss me like you don't like girls."

"Sure I do," I said easily. "I'm just a good kisser. Since I do like boys, I'm even better kissing them."

Santana wasn't buying it. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard that all before. In fact, I was the one who said most of it." My heart beat faster as she scooted closer to me, shaking the boat again. "If you're not attracted to girls, then why do you look at me the way you do?"

I sniffed derisively now, trying my best to look at Santana with cold indifference. "I can appreciate how attractive you are without being attracted _to _you," I explained coolly.

She tilted her head, her black curls falling over one of her tanned shoulders that were turned milky in the starlight, and different colors when the fireworks overhead burst. "That's the thing, though. You didn't kiss me like you thought I was attractive. You kissed me like you were attracted to me."

I sneered. "I think you're imagining things, Santana." I turned my head, looking deliberately out over the water. I didn't want to make her angry and fight with her, but she was making me so uncomfortable. My heart was pounding so hard and so fast that it physically hurt.

"I don't think so," disagreed Santana, and to my fury, she didn't sound the least bit upset. "Just in case I'm wrong, though, how about you prove it?"

I blinked, and then my senses were assaulted as Santana moved to sit beside me. Her perfume invaded me. Just the slightest feel of her skin brushing against mine sent my flesh into a hyper-aware state. I was mortified when I realized that I was getting wet. At least she couldn't tell what my body was currently undergoing.

"Prove it," she continued. "Kiss me, and I'll decide whether you're into it or not."

I swallowed, hard, and tried to maintain a cold expression. "I'm sure you could just lie and say that I am when I'm not."

She shrugged. "I could do that. But I won't." It felt as though electricity was coursing through my body when I watched the way her dark eyes flickered to my lips. "You have nothing to lose, really. I'm the only one, because if I lose it means I'm wrong. So why not?"

_Because_ I'm_ wrong,_ I thought, but only wet my lips nervously. Her eyes zeroed in on that too, consequently making even more heat pulsate through my body.

"Alright, but just because I love to be right," I lied desperately, and moved my head forward, pressing my mouth to hers.

We kissed slowly this time. No rush, no panic, even if that was what I was feeling inside. Someone could see us any moment, I screamed in my head, but it was just me and her out here in this boat, on this lake. No one else. Nothing but the fireworks dazzling overhead.

Her fingertips trailed down my neck, my shoulder, to play lightly with the skin of my wrist. They left gooseflesh in their wake.

Unable to stop myself, I arched my body into hers. I could feel her breasts, soft against mine. _God._ How I would love it if I could just reach over, unzip that dress and feel her against me…

_So_ not how straight girls think. Humiliated, I withdrew my body from hers, forced myself to pull my lips away from hers. Her eyes were so dark and hazy, and the way her teeth sank into her full bottom lip was so sexy that I almost kissed her again. Would have, perhaps, if not for her next words.

"Definitely not straight," she said, and despite the horror those words instilled for me, the huskiness of her voice was like her specifically caressing my body, and I was wetter than ever. When she leaned forward and softly brushed her lips against mine again, I sighed.

"Maybe," I admitted before I could stop myself. But I was disoriented, confused from that sweet kiss.

"Go on a date with me," she said, and when I was quiet, she kissed me softly again. "Please, go on a date with me. It's okay, how you're feeling. It gets easier. Trust me."

Uncertain, I bit my own lip. When her eyes yet again flitted to the movement, I couldn't help but to smirk. Her own stress seemed to calm mine. I was the one to lean forward and kiss her, now.

"But if my dad finds out I'm out with a girl…."

"Why would he?" she murmured, her lips moving against mine. I shivered when her tongue rolled against mine. She had a very talented tongue. I wondered what else she could do with it… "He's not going to find out, Q."

"But…"

"You know I won't tell anyone. And no one around here would tell anyone either. Trust me."

I looked into her beseeching dark eyes for a moment longer, then sighed in defeat. "Alright," I said, beginning to smile because I was actually going to go on a date with Santana now. Something I really, really wanted to do. "Pick me up at six."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

Grinning, Santana pressed her lips to mine again, before we paddled back to shore and rejoined the others. When I left that night, I received a text from her.

**I wanted to kiss you goodnight. :(**

I couldn't help myself as I smiled as I typed the reply.

**Tomorrow you can :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Hey guys, so, firstly, thanks so much for the reviews; they mean a lot and I love them :)  
Secondly, I continue to receive requests that I show more of Quinn's POV since it's mostly Santana; well, like I said, there is a reason for that, so just sit tight and I will later reveal that reasoning to you :)  
Thirdly, sorry it's been a day or two since the last update; working sucks T.T**

Anyways, enjoy!

**Chapter 20**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I observed my reflection in the bathroom mirror after glancing at the clock to make sure it wasn't yet six o'clock. Nerves were dancing in my belly. I was going on my first date with Quinn tonight. While half of me was jumping for joy, the other half was screaming doubts at me. Was this a bad idea?

_No, no,_ I reassured myself. After all, I had definitely thought this through. For the past two weeks I'd been wrestling around on the decision as to whether or not I should ask Quinn out. She couldn't have given me a more perfect opportunity to do so. And now I was about to go on a date with her.

I arrived at her mansion/house right on time. I hadn't been sure on whether or not to bring flowers, so I just opted for one rose, just in case. I didn't want to look like I was desperate or an idiot, after all. She opened the door almost immediately after I rang the doorbell, and I took a sharp intake of breath when I saw her. She wore a white sundress, and her hair hung down her back in a golden, sunlit cascade. She looked more than amazing.

"Hi," I said brilliantly, holding out the rose.

"Hi yourself," she said, and surprised me by kissing by my cheek before taking the flower and waving it before her nose for a sniff. "I'll put these in a vase."

She darted in and out within ten seconds. She smiled, took my hand after she closed and locked the door behind her. "So, where are we off to?"

"Your favorite restaurant." I opened the door for Quinn of Burt's truck I had borrowed for the occasion, closing it after she gracefully slid in.

"Waffle House?" she said excitedly once I got in.

I grinned as I started the car. This was going to be a good night.

Quinn chatted animatedly throughout the drive to the restaurant. An hour later we were laughing as I tried to force-feed her the pasta I ordered. I hadn't thought that Waffle House would even have pasta, so it was insanity to me, but convenient.

"Come on, try it. It's good!"

"No no no no no!" Quinn laughed, shaking her head and pushing away my hand that held the forkful of noodles. "It's nasty. And now you can't kiss me goodnight because you'll taste like it."

I rolled my eyes, watching the way her eyes flickered to my lips as I tossed the noodles into my mouth. "As if you could resist."

She rolled her eyes too, but her smirk was evident.

Later, as we pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater, I realized I was having a ridiculous amount of fun. Surely this was too good to be true.

Quinn must have noticed my suddenly sorrowful expression when I shut off the engine. "What's wrong?" she asked, and the smile she'd had all evening began to fade.

I turned to look at her. She was so beautiful.

_Stop that_, I ordered, irritated at myself. Why was I doing that? I shouldn't be spoiling a perfect evening just because of my own insecurities. But…Brittany said she loved me, yet here she was with Sam. It didn't work out between Britt and I. Why should I expect it to with anyone else?

Plus, in a month, I would be going back to New York. Back to my job as a Coyote. Back to taking a few singing and dance classes at Nyada. Quinn would be going back to Nebraska Community College. I had told her she was too smart to just be a part-time student, that she should make an effort, since she confessed to me once that she always wanted to attend Yale. But because she argued back that I too was wasting away doing what I was doing, I had dropped the subject. But still, in a month, we would be hundreds of miles away. Why would she want to stay with me then?

_Don't think like that. _I had only known Quinn for a month and a half, but even from that short period of time, I could tell something was different about her. As much as that scared me, it also calmed me. I really liked her. I mean really, really liked her. And she obviously liked me too, if she was here on this date with me. Hell, I could feel it in the way she kissed me.

I smiled at Quinn. "Nothing. I was just thinking about this movie."

Her smile returned a little. "What about it?" she said, taking off her seatbelt and gathering her purse.

"It looks good, that's all. And I'm scared I won't be able to watch any of it," I said as I got out of the car, walked around to open Quinn's door and help her out.

"Why's that?" she said, and pleased me by taking my hand, intertwining our fingers.

I brought her hand up, kissed the back of her knuckles. We began to walk toward the movie theater. "I'm afraid that you won't be able to control yourself and you'll distract me by trying to kiss me every five minutes."

She laughed at that. "Oh, well. I don't put out on the first date you know, and I wouldn't want to ruin our not really first—first date kiss, so...I promise not to distract you, okay?"

She lied.

She hadn't lied about the kissing—we really didn't kiss, though I wanted to. But she did end up distracting me because of the way we snuggled and I could feel her warmth against me, could smell her flowery perfume, and I could think of nothing else during the entire movie but her.

Afterward the movie, we went out and shared an ice cream cone as we discussed our favorite parts of the movie. I felt a thrill every time I watched her take a lick of that ice cream, consequently making me feel like both a creep and a pervert, and I suspected she knew by the smile that lingered on her face after every lick.

And then, all too soon, we were pulling into her driveway and I was walking her to the door.

We walked slowly, but it still seemed like we reached her door quickly. We faced each other. My palms felt sweaty, which was weird because it wasn't like it was our first kiss, plus I was an expert on kissing, I never felt nervous about it. But like I said, something was different about Quinn. I didn't know what it was, but something was different.

"Thanks for everything. I had fun," said Quinn softly. Her full lips were curved upward at the corners, her almond-shaped hazel eyes luminous and steady on mine.

"So did I. Are you sure you don't want me to kiss you goodnight?" I grinned as she rolled her eyes and pulled me close to her. I went on, "I mean I know you don't like pasta..."

"Smart-ass," she muttered before touching her smile to mine.

Unlike our previous fast-and-furious kissing, this was slow and sweet, more like the kiss in the boat last night. The sink-into-each-other kind, where we just seemed to melt together. Though it was gentle, I still had her back against the door by the end of it, and I was still breathless as Quinn gazed up at me with dazed eyes that had grown darker.

"Exactly how many goodnight kisses does a first date entail?" she said in a husky voice that made me want to wrap my arms around her.

"One more," I said, and kissed her again.

A minute later we withdrew, and I took a reluctant step out of her embrace. "Goodnight, Quinn."

"Goodnight, Santana," she murmured. She smiled at me once more before unlocking her door and stepping out of view.

I resisted the urge to jump up and yell like a giddy teenager as I walked back to my truck. Instead I walked with a deliberate confidence, a deliberate sensuality, aware that her eyes were probably trained on the sway of my hips as I walked and she watched through the window blinds.

My heart swelled as I drove home. I didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, I seemed to be falling head over heels for Quinn.

Too bad that would turn out to be an unfortunate thing.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I felt a thrill rocket through my body when I pulled my blue Lamborghini into the drive of the ranch and I spotted Santana crossing the grass toward the nearly-fixed house clutching two baskets of eggs. After our date last night, I'd wanted nothing more than to see her again as quickly as possible. Even texting her for hours after the date hadn't satisfied the need I felt.

I hurried out of my car, hastened to Santana. She glanced around as though making sure we were alone, then dropped the egg baskets just in time for me to fling my arms around her neck and fix my mouth onto hers.

"Hi," I whispered, drawing back for a moment to smile at her. Though it was still dark out, as it was only just past four in the morning, I could still clearly see the mocha brown of her eyes.

"Hey," she whispered back, a crooked smile stretching over her face. "How do you look so sexy so early in the morning?"

God, she was hot. Knew just what to say and how to say it.

"I feel dumb for missing you when I just saw you like, five hours ago," I said breathlessly. I tilted my head forward, brushed my lips across hers. "But, I really missed you. I had fun with you last night."

"I had fun with you too." Her grin widened. "So much fun, in fact, that I could only sleep about an hour out of the four we had to sleep."

My smile twisted ruefully. "Sorry. I couldn't really sleep either, if it's any consolation." Though of course half of that reason was because Dayton had finally called me back and I had to remain awake for another hour and a half explaining to him that I was breaking up with him.

"It's consolation." Santana jerked her head toward the baskets on the ground. "I woke up extra early so I could do your chores, too. I thought we could hang out before everyone woke up to start work."

"What about Matt?" I said at once. Santana and I had already agreed while texting last night that we were going to keep our relationship in the shadows as long as we could so we didn't risk angering Matt.

"He's not here." She wiggled her brows. "Kurt said Matt had a date last night, too. He didn't come home, and won't until after noon, probably."

Probably wasn't good enough, but with Santana, I would take what I got. "Okay." I kissed her again, lingering this time. "Thanks. Doing my chores, that was nice. I give you points."

She laughed softly, stepped out of my embrace so I could bend down, pick up the baskets. "Alright, give me five minutes. I'm going to go put these away."

I nodded, bit my lip in a smile as I watched Santana walk away. God, I really liked her.

And I _wanted _her. Wanted her lips on mine, wanted her hands on me. I wondered if I could seduce her into having a bit of fun with me before everyone woke and it was time to work. It shouldn't be that hard. I was sure she wanted my lips on hers and my hands on her too. Why wouldn't she?

But…I was nervous, to be honest. Sure, I knew men like the back of my hand, even though I'd only slept with three guys. They were so simple and so easy. I knew exactly what to do. But I had never been with a girl before. I mean, the general gist was obvious…I was a girl myself, and I knew what to do to make myself feel pleasure. But just the fact that I had never…done anything…to another girl, made me nervous.

But, I guess I would have to learn sometime.

I began to unbutton the jacket I wore. Seeing how it was July, I only wore the thing for fashion. As of now, as I dropped it onto the ground, it was a pure white and would probably ruin. I didn't care. This was more important.

Did this make me slightly slutty, I absently wondered as I walked several steps away from the jacket and towards the horse stables, that it was only five hours after our first date and I was already stripping? I shed the over-shirt I wore, let it fall to the ground. I walked farther, left a shoe behind. Walked farther still, reached the stables. I left my other shoe and then turned back to admire the trail I had left. _Nicely done,_ I told myself in satisfaction, and walked into the barn.

It smelled, but then again, everywhere around here did. I was glad that all the horses were out of sight, sleeping. I wasn't sure if I liked horses.

I found a pile of seemingly clean hay and gingerly sat down, bringing my knees together (since I wore a skirt) and up so I could wrap my arms around them.

Hardly five minutes later, I heard Santana approaching. She didn't call my name, didn't make much sound at all. In fact, the only reason I even thought she was approaching was because I heard the distant sound of the kitchen door quietly squeaking closed. I frowned. What if it wasn't Santana? What if it was Kurt? He would probably be horrified to see a girl half-naked (well, wearing a skirt and an exposing tank-top). What if it was Puck? He'd already hit on me hundreds of times since I'd been working here, so I'm sure he would just love to see me now. I'd caught Sam looking at me too, when Brittany wasn't around. Or Finn, who was always awkwardly staring at me when he wasn't staring at Rachel. Oh God, what if it was Rachel? She would squeal and make a scene about it. One thing I'd learned about her in the past month was that she was very dramatic. I'd already watched her cry about how she broke that chicken's foot, grow furious when Kurt explained about how they were raising pigs for slaughter, and make her own emotional monologue about what an incredible inspiration Barbra Streisand was and how she couldn't wait to audition for Fanny Brice one day.

But fortunately, Rachel didn't walk in, nor did anyone else except who I hoped for. Santana entered the stables, a wondering, wry smile on her face. I could swear I saw her eyes darken when I spotted her.

"What's this?" she said, holding up my jacket with one finger.

I crooked a finger to indicate for her to come. When she reached me, I gripped her by the legs of her jeans, tugged her down to kneel beside me. Once she was close enough, I locked my arms around her neck, brought her face to mine.

"I kinda want you really bad," I murmured against her lips. "Sorry if that's weird."

"Why would that be weird?" She cupped my face with both hands, ran her fingers down through my hair before sliding her lips to my throat.

"Because we had our first date yesterday." My fingertips danced along the bottom hem of her shirt, flirting with warm, smooth skin.

"So?" She chuckled into my neck. "We've had like a month and a half of foreplay now."

"Mmm-hmm." Impatience mingled with the lust as she continued to kiss my neck. "Hey, can you put your hands on me now?"

Santana's head jerked up and she had caught my bottom lip between her teeth before I'd even had the time to blink at the shock. "Take your time, Q. Some things are better savored, don't you think?"

t seemed that I was nothing but sensation. Slowly, Santana's hands glided down from the back of my neck, moved over my shoulders. Her fingertips seemed to burn into my flesh. I trembled and marveled over that. I rarely trembled. In the many months I dated Dayton, he'd never once made me tremble. "I _can't _think," I admitted.

"You don't need to," said Santana, and then her mouth was on mine again and I forgot why I ever needed to think again.

"Ahem."

Santana and I both quite literally jumped a foot in the air at the sound of Puck clearing his voice. We looked up to see him standing a few feet away, watching us with an amused look, swinging one of my shoes from two fingers.

"I knew it. I told Finn that you guys would get together. He owes me fifty bucks. He didn't think it would happen until after the house was done."

"Uh, Puck—" began Santana, but Puck only shook his head.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell Matt. This is way too hot to be stopped."

Santana blew out a breath. "You're a pig. But thanks."

Meanwhile, I felt vulnerable in only a short miniskirt and a thin tank top. I squirmed to the right so that I was discreet behind Santana.

"Here." Puck kicked my over-shirt to me while Santana handed me my jacket. "As much as it pains me to admit this and trust me, it does, you guys better stop and get out of here. Matt called ten minutes ago and said he would be back by five."

Santana spoke to Puck's retreating back. "Thanks, Puck."

"No problem. You made me fifty bucks."

I exchanged a relieved, amused expression with Santana as I pulled my shirt on.

Thank God it had been Puck and not Matt.

* * *

**A/N: It breaks my heart to learn of Cory Monteith's death :( Glee will not be the same without him. It hurt to even reread this scene at the part where he's mentioned. Prayers for his family, for his Glee family, and for Lea. X**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry my updates are a little slower than usual, work sucks and I'm taking summer classes as well, which makes it even more time-consuming.**

I hope you're enjoying this story so far. I cannot express how much I love the reviews, and all my readers. You guys are awesome. 

**Enjoy! **

**Chapter 22**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Over the course of the next week, Santana and I tried to keep our relationship in the shadows a bit so we could avoid hearing Matt's disapproval, but after Kurt and Mercedes caught us kissing behind the barn it became impossible. Which was better, actually, because now we could hold hands and be affectionate anywhere anytime. Except around Matt, who did not seem to like it one bit, though fortunately he hadn't yet actually said anything about it.

Santana and I were currently walking toward the horse stables hand-in-hand. The horses made Santana a little nervous, which I thought was sweet. I wasn't the biggest fan of them ever since I was seven years old and I had been bucked off one, but I was still encouraging as I helped Santana groom them. Turns out she had usually been able to talk Brittany into doing the grooming chores whenever she was assigned them. She had no qualms about shoveling their shit up, however. For the past month, Santana and I tended to switch duties, and I would groom the horses while she cleaned their shit instead. I thought she was crazy, but whatever.

"I think he likes you," I said amiably as I moved the brush down the palomino stag's side after Santana did.

"I like you." Santana smiled, brushing her lips across mine. "Are we going out tonight?"

"I was thinking you just come over, we put a movie in, and not watch it at all." I smiled when she arched a brow in intrigue.

"I'm game. Try to keep your hands off me this time."

I rolled my eyes. Ever since our third date—approximately four days ago—when we had went to see another movie and I'd accidentally grazed my hand across the front of Santana's shorts when I went to grab her soda from the armrest, since I'd already drank all of mine, Santana had been teasing me.

"You do know that when I actually put my hands on you, you'll know without a shadow of a doubt. Right?" I said as I moved to brush the horse's flank.

"Yes," said Santana, moving with me. "But it's more tempting when you're near a bed, or on a couch."

I rolled my eyes again. Santana grinned. "I'll be there at eight."

At seven forty-five, Santana arrived. I already had the bowl of popcorn set out on the table.

"Hey," said Santana, kissing my cheek. She always did that, even if we had seen each other only an hour ago. I found it a little funny, since in front of all her other friends, we only held hands usually. Despite her provocativeness, I think Santana was more discreet about her own love life.

"Hey yourself," I greeted back, taking her and and leading her to the couch. I put in the movie (one of Santana's favorites: Transformers) and then went to make us glasses of water while the commercials were on. When I reentered, I turned off the lights, set our glasses on the table and eased down beside her, snuggling into her after I draped a black wool blanket around us.

"Megan Fox is hot in this movie," commented Santana once we were settled.

I tightened my arms around her. "Not as hot as me, right?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Such a big head, Fabray," she teased, ruffling my hair affectionately. "For the record, no, she is not as pretty as you."

Quinn smiled in amusement. "It was just a joke. Anyway, Megan Fox isn't pretty. She's just hot."

"What do you mean?" inquired Santana.

"Megan Fox isn't beautiful, she's hot. Angelina Jolie isn't beautiful, she's hot. Catherine Zeta Jones is beautiful. Julianne Hough is beautiful."

"But Catherine Zeta Jones and Julianne Hough can be hot too."

"That's what makes them more appealing than Megan Fox and Angelina Jolie."

Santana smiled down at me in the darkness. "_You're _better than Megan Fox and Angelina Jolie."

_Oh please, _I thought with a roll of my eyes, but inside I was glowing.

We watched the movie to the point where Shia Leboufe was standing on top of trashcans while dogs were trying to eat him before I tugged on Santana's shirt to bring her face down to mine.

I was beginning to think I was addicted to kissing Santana. Not even kidding. She tasted amazing, and I _felt _amazing every time we kissed, and I just never wanted to stop. Ever.

Santana gently urged forward, driving me to my back on the couch. My head rested comfortably on the armchair. The blanket twisted itself around my legs as I hooked them around Santana's waist. She kissed my neck, and I sighed, and then we were interrupted by the doorbell.

I drew back and sat up, frowning. "Who could that be?" I wondered aloud. It couldn't be friends—Lena, Claire and Rhiannon weren't allowed out after a certain time, and none of Santana's friends knew where I lived. It obviously wasn't family, since my dad was currently in Washington and my only other living relatives lived there too and weren't due to visit for another week.

Santana echoed my frown. "I'll come with you," she said cautiously, and wrapped a protective arm around my waist as we walked to the door.

My mouth fell open in utter surprise when I opened the door to find my grandmother and my cousins Bridget and baby Stephanie standing before the door.

I was just about to throw my arms around them when I noticed the tall, model-like figure standing a little ways behind them. I stopped in my tracks, my heart thundering.

I watched in horror as the figure stepped forward, throwing back her luxurious golden locks and sending me a blindingly beautiful smile. Her hazel eyes sly and calculating on mine, my elder sister Frannie said in a low, amused voice, "Hello, Lucy."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Sitting beside Quinn on the couch in her parlor, I studied the woman sitting across from me. She looked a lot like Quinn, only...well, more womanly. Mostly because of the confident, experienced look in her eyes. Unlike Quinn's, they were purely hazel, a blend of brown and green, rather than fluctuating between the two colors. She and Quinn shared the same skin tone, the same golden hair, the same face shape and features. But this woman was taller, slimmer than Quinn. She looked like a runway model.

"I'm so confused. I thought you guys weren't coming down until the last July weekend." Quinn didn't sound only confused. She sounded offended. Puzzled, I tightened the arm I had around her waist. The woman seemed to notice. Her eyes zeroed in on my arm before flickering up to meet my gaze. She gave me a slow smile that made me mentally raise a brow.

"Well, we were, but after you sent us that last letter, Frannie here insisted we come sooner." Quinn's grandmother had a bit of a twang, which was surprising. I figured all of Quinn's relatives would be rich and proper, particularly since they lived in Washington.

The infant in Quinn's brunette cousin Bridget's arms cooed. Quinn's grandmother brushed back her own gray hair and said, "It isn't inconvenient for you, is it Quinn?"

Quinn rubbed a hand across her temple as though weary. "I have to work everyday, but..."

"I'll come with you," spoke up Frannie at once.

Quinn lowered her hand, staring at her sister in shock. Even her grandmother and Bridget looked startled.

"You're going to work with Quinn?" said Bridget, sounding stunned.

Frannie lifted a shoulder, let it fall. Fuck, she even shrugged gracefully. "Sure. I have nothing else to do."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. To my surprise, I noticed a hard glint in them. Quinn didn't seem to like Frannie. "What are you doing here?" she said abruptly.

Frannie's beautiful hazel eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

Quinn glared at her even while her grandmother frowned. "You know exactly what I mean."

"Hey now," interjected her grandmother. "We came all the way down here, so we all gonna get along. Ya'll understand?"

Reluctantly, Quinn and Frannie nodded.

"So this is your friend Santana, Quinn?" Bridget piped up, her brown eyes curious on me.

"Oh." Quinn jumped a little, immediately appearing guilty. "I'm sorry. Santana, this is—"

"Your grandmother, and your cousins Bridget and Stephanie. And Frannie," I added just a little too late.

Frannie's full, plump lips twisted ruefully. "I see my baby sister failed to mention me."

"Of course not," I said quickly, but it was obvious I hadn't known who Frannie was. Quinn had never even once mentioned she had a sister. "Alright, uh, Quinn, I think I'm going to head home, okay? Give you time to catch up."

Quinn nodded and stood up when I did. "I'm going to walk her out. Give me a minute," she murmured to her family. They nodded.

Quinn seemed robotic as she walked me to the front door. She was obviously worried about something, as she was chewing on her lower lip like she always did when she was preoccupied.

"Hey," I said in a low voice as I opened the front door. "I don't have to leave."

She shook her head, her sunlit curls tumbling around her. "No, I need to...I need to talk with them. I don't understand why Frannie..." she trailed off, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip again.

"Why didn't you mention her before?"

She shook her head again. "Later. Drive safe, okay?"

My brow knit as she closed the door in my face. Half a beat later, it was yanked open again, and her arms locked around my neck as she kissed me. When she withdrew, she gave me a half-hearted smile. "See you tomorrow."

I nodded, sticking my hands into my pockets as I walked to the car. I didn't understand why Quinn would neglect to state that she had an older sister, or even why she didn't mention that her real name was actually Lucy, but there was one thing that was blaringly obvious. She definitely had neglected to mention to any of her family that she was dating me.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I felt numb as I closed the front door and walked back into the parlor. My grandmother gave a whoop as she re-entered.

"So, my granddaughter is a working girl, now!"

"Santana seems nicer than you described her," said Bridget. "I'm glad you're friends now."

Frannie was silent, watching me with that predatory look in her eyes I had grown to recognize and to hate.

"Upstairs," I snapped at her. "Now."

"Oh dear," said my grandmother, laughter leaving her face at once.

I ignored it and followed Frannie upstairs. The minute the bedroom door was closed, I snapped, "Why are you here?"

Frannie gave me that familiar coldly amused look. "Whatever do you mean, baby sister?"

"You _know _what I mean. I talk about this job in one letter and you have to fly down here?" I demanded. Frannie's condescending expression never changed. "Why are you here?" I repeated.

"The same reason as last time, Lucy Quinn Fabray." Frannie angled her head, watching me, calculating me. God, she was so much smarter than people took her for. Only I knew her. Only I ever would. She was exactly like my father, only smarter and meaner, something most would think to be impossible. I stared at her in disgust as she slid her hand along my dresser, crossing the space between us to stand before me, a full head taller than me. I hated how I had to look up to see her. "The exact same reason. To steal your job, to steal your friends, and to make your life hell."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! Especially the regulars :) I love you guys!**

**Chapter 24**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

It was really weird working alongside both Quinn and Frannie. Quinn was uncharacteristically quiet, while Frannie was a chatterbox. She kept me occupied throughout most of the day, but I couldn't help worrying about Quinn. She seemed so upset and I didn't understand why.

All the guys were practically drooling over Frannie. Tommy, Puck, Finn, Sam, even Matt, were following us around, their eyes eager on Frannie's hips as they swayed with her stride. She didn't work much, but she definitely kept them entertained. Even most of the girls were entertained by her; Rachel was immediately struck purely because Frannie's name (Fanny Brice). Frannie let Brittany play with her hair, which immediately gained her sway there. She discussed church with Mercedes, so points there. Even Kurt, Blaine and Tina were charmed when Frannie discussed music with them. Honestly, I didn't understand what Quinn's problem was. Frannie was witty and charming, and easy on the eyes too, if I was being honest. My eyes were on Quinn, of course, but that didn't make me blind.

That night, Quinn came over rather than me going to her house, where all her relatives were. She started to act more like herself as we watched an Indiana Jones movie together.

"So, are you not going to tell me what's been wrong with you?" I finally asked.

Quinn, who was curled up next to me on the recliner, acquired a crease between her brows. "You won't believe me. No one ever believes me."

I took her hand, intertwined our fingers before I used my free hand to lightly touch her chin and tilt her head back so I could give her a slow, lingering kiss. "Try me."

Her cheeks puffed as she blew out a breath. "Okay." She sat up straighter, her eyes grave on mine. "Frannie is evil," she said simply.

"Aren't all older siblings?" I said in amusement. I wouldn't know, personally. I didn't have any siblings, and most of my close friends didn't, either. Rachel was an only child. Kurt was technically an only child, though Finn was his older step-brother. Brittany was an only child. My closest friends were all the only children in their families.

"No, I mean literally evil. Okay look, I'll start at the top. Sixth grade." She held out a finger as though ticking it off. "I was dating Bobby Withrow, and Frannie got jealous, even though she was in eighth grade and could date anyone she wanted. So then I found out Bobby dumped me—I found out from six of my friends who had caught Frannie kissing Bobby beside the swing-sets during recess." She held out a second finger. "Ninth grade. Frannie had been dating Jay Mclaren for three months. Then I started dating Dylan Mays, and Frannie dumped Jay, then I caught her and Dylan canoodling a week later in _my _bedroom."

I lifted my brows. "They were having—"

"No! Canoodling is a word Rhiannon made up for like, touching and stuff. Anyway that's not the point!" Quinn said impatiently. She held out a third finger. "Tenth grade, I was talking to Austin Poole. Next thing I know, he's dating Frannie." She held out two more fingers. "Same scenarios once more in tenth grade and then again in eleventh. The only guys I've ever dated that she never touched were this kid named Alex, and then Dayton. She wasn't in town when I was with Alex. But with Dayton, judging on how I dumped him a couple weeks ago, I wouldn't be surprised if she's screwing around with him now."

I looked back at Quinn, amused, while inside I contemplated. I knew it sounded bad, but, it was hard to believe Quinn. She had a tendency to exaggerate, and Frannie seemed nice. Not to mention that Quinn had a bit of an ego on her. I couldn't see Frannie deliberately sabotaging all of Quinn's relationships, but I could see Quinn misunderstanding something. Still, I didn't want Quinn to feel like I was unsupportive, so I only shrugged casually and said, "She sounds like a bitch."

Quinn nodded vigorously, seeming satisfied that I had agreed with her. "She is." She relaxed and smiled a little at me. "You're the first person to believe me, San. Thank you."

And then she was atop me, kissing me with a vengeance, and I felt like a complete and total bitch. Until she continued on enthusiastically, and I forgot that I was a bitch and only knew that I had a beautiful girl I liked very much on top of me.

"Hey...wait." I felt disoriented. Her fingers were curled in on my jean belt loops, tugging slightly. I quickly pulled back her hands and sat up. "Quinn, I thought you said you wanted to wait."

She sat back abruptly, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She growled my name, sounding somewhere between scolding and aggravated.

"Are you changing your mind?" I asked, puzzled slightly.

A few days after Quinn and I had began to date, she told me that she needed to take it slow. I understood that, considering I was obviously the first girl for her to be with. As much as it sucked not to rip her clothes off every time I saw her, I had been respecting her wishes and backing off when things got too heated.

Quinn dragged a hand through her golden locks, an uncertain expression flickering across her face. "That reminds me...I have to tell you something."

"What?"

She gave me a tiny smile, her teeth in her bottom lip. "I'm kind of...a virgin."

I laughed, which probably wasn't smart. She glared at me and I immediately sobered. "But...what? I thought..."

"I know. Everyone thinks that. But I really am, I swear."

I was stunned. Quinn was rich, gorgeous, and had an amazing personality—plus she was a ridiculous pervert. You had to be an idiot to assume she was a virgin.

"Why?" I managed to ask, though how might've been the better question.

"When I was eight, I spent the night at Lena's house and we walked in on her parents. When my mom gave me the sex talk, she made me promise that I would wait for the right guy. As she died the next year..." Quinn shrugged. "I made sure to keep the promise. And there's never been a right guy."

Wow. Not to be rude, but with the confidence Quinn displayed, and God just look at her…I knew she was a lesbian virgin, but I never would have guessed she had never slept with a guy before.

"What about you?" she prompted.

"What about me?"

"How many have you had?" She smiled at my expression. "Guys and girls."

I sighed, casting my eyes to the ceiling. "I've slept with one guy, and three girls. I slept with Puck when I was a sophomore in high school. It was one time, and it was terrible. The last girl I slept with was named Elena; she was just a girl I met in New York. So was Audrey. And then Brittany was the first girl I've ever been with."

Quinn nodded. I had already divulged all about Brittany and I's old relationship to her. Initially she had seemed jealous, but Brittany wasn't exactly an intimidating person. Although Quinn had yet to see her full-out dance. "I figured. You really liked her, huh?"

"Yeah." Thinking about her brought back the familiar dregs of pain that hurt my stomach. New subject. "So we aren't having sex. I'm not doing it," I spoke over her immediate protests. "You're keeping your promise and waiting for the right person."

She angled her head, studying me. "What if you're the right one?"

I gave her a small smile as I reached over, poked her in the nose. "We've only been dating for two weeks, Quinn."

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, her cellphone ring interrupted her. She answered it, and from what she said, I gathered that her family wanted her back home to visit.

"Alright, I've got to go," she said, slipping her phone back into her pocket. She leaned into me, pressed her lips to mine for what must have been intended as a brief kiss but instead turned into her sinking into me, her hands tangling themselves in my hair. I slid my own hands down the length of her back, over her curves and up again, before she broke away.

I walked her to her car and felt a little disappointed as she drove away. It worried me how much I enjoyed being with her. In a few weeks, I would be going back to New York. And I knew first hand how difficult long-term relationships were.

The next day, I was still worried and trying to console myself as I carefully groomed the horse Quinn and I usually groomed together. I was trying to finish my chores early today, though, so I could spend more time with Quinn.

"Hey, Santana."

I turned at the sound of Frannie's voice. When I spotted her walking toward me, her curvy hips swinging in her stride, I felt my stomach immediately grow tighter. She was ridiculously hot. And I was ridiculously douchey for thinking that about Quinn's older sister.

"Where's Quinn?" she asked, and made me feel even guiltier.

"Um, I don't know." I suddenly remembered that she was where she was every late afternoon of work. "Oh, um, she's painting the house."

Frannie tilted her head, her hazel gaze traveling over the horse that I was currently grooming. "He's pretty. What's his name?"

"Luke Skywalker," I answered, taking a deep breath to calm my unnecessary nerves. Tommy had named this horse, and the thought of his hilarity calmed me down a little. My hand was steadier when I moved the brush down the horse's shimmering tanned coat.

Frannie's lips curved in an amused smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. She had somewhat creepy eyes, I'd come to notice. She looked like she was always watchful. A piercing gaze. Like she didn't miss anything. "Funny. Star Wars fanatic?"

I shook my head. "Kurt doesn't care for it. Just Tommy. I think their uncle liked it though."

"That's funny," repeated Frannie in a musing tone. "But sad that he's not here anymore." She put her hand over mine; I stopped grooming with a jolt. "I'm sorry."

"Uh. That's okay," I said, discreetly slipping my hand out from beneath hers. "He wasn't my uncle. Not taking away from it or anything, but I never knew the guy."

"Santana?"

I practically jumped a foot away from Frannie at the sound of Quinn's voice. Quinn walked into the stables and lifted her brows at my expression; her eyes narrowed onto Frannie.

"Matt said we need another supply run. Want to go?" Watching Frannie suspiciously, Quinn wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Sure," I said, a little breathless with the tension in the air.

Quinn began to drag me off without a goodbye to Frannie. Feeling rude, I glanced back over my shoulder, gave Frannie a brief and slightly wild nod. Frannie replied with a slow smile, and then she was out of view.

"I hate her," said Quinn viciously as she released me and began stomping toward her car.

I darted before her so I could open her door. She slid in with a grumbled thanks.

I was carefully silent as I sat in my own seat, buckled up.

"I mean _really_," she growled. "She's just so..._evil_."

She was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. Her face looked furious and slightly crazed. I was reminded of Cruella Deville behind the wheel, and I had to fight the urge to laugh. If I even smiled, I was sure Quinn would murder me.

I should calm her down. (maybe I would redeem himself as a better girlfriend in my eyes-I hoped). I reached over, took one of her hands in my own. When I kissed the back of it, she seemed to relax. She glanced at me, and the angry lines on her face faded away.

"Sorry. I sound kind of crazy, huh?" She smiled when I looked out the window. "She makes me kind of crazy." She sighed and we drove on for a while before she shook her head and took a sharp turn into the road leading to town. "Screw supplies. Let's go mess around."

I looked out the window at the Mcdonalds we drove by and felt my stomach rumble. "Let's eat dinner, too."

"Good. I'm starving."

Ten minutes later we pulled into an Arby's. As we ate, Quinn began to relax. We laughed over the fact that Matt was going to be severely annoyed when he discovered they'd skipped out on yet another supply run. He wasn't as creepy or scary anymore, Quinn said. Probably because she was getting used to being around him now.

The entire evening went by in a blur. When Quinn left the ranch for home, I was fairly sure she had left me with several hickeys that would take forever to get rid of.

Nevertheless (or maybe because of it) I went back to the living room with a smile and watched television for another forty minutes before I noticed that Quinn had forgotten her Coach purse. I couldn't just leave it here, could I? Okay, I totally could. But I missed her already, and this was just another excuse to see her. Making my mind up quickly, I grabbed it and Burt's truck keys and headed out the door.

Later, I would wish I had never left.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I didn't like surprises. I never had.

So when I entered the huge, gleaming kitchen of my house and found Dayton standing there waiting for me, I was definitely not pleased, to say the least.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, throwing my keys onto the countertop of the bar.

He stood leaning against the fridge, his handsome face creased with what appeared to be sorrow. Dayton E. Flemming had always been handsome, just like his father and his four older brothers. He was already rich and successful at the mere age of 22. I had enjoyed being with him—though it was nothing compared to how I enjoyed being with Santana—because Dayton was smart, charming, and simple. The only problem with the relationship had been that I refused to sleep with him, and that he annoyed me to no end, and for no particular reason.

"I don't like how we ended, Quinn," he said mournfully. He moved toward me and had me in a hug before I had time to blink.

I had liked him physically too. That was another reason I'd dated him. He was tall, broad shouldered, with well-defined muscles and a bronze skin tone. Yes, he looked like one of those classic, stereotypical stuck-up rich douchebags that spent too much time, money and effort on a high-dollar training program. That didn't make him any less attractive.

He pulled back to peer down at me with those pretty blue eyes. His pale-blonde hair was carefully slicked back from his face. Even despite his slightly feminine pretty face, he was undeniably male, and not just because of the thing dangling down between his legs. He smelled male, musky and pungent. He was so far different from Santana, from her soft lips and smooth skin and rich, intoxicating scent, that it almost startled me.

"I want to get back together."

I blinked. Why would he want to get back together? And then it occurred to me. He'd told me weeks ago that his father's law firm was losing money. Why did he want to get back with me? Because he needed a backup plan for fast cash. It didn't help that my own father loved him.

"I'm seeing someone," I said coldly.

He frowned at me a moment, before it clicked. Revulsion contorted his features, and despite myself, I cringed a little, knowing what he was about to say. "You're a fucking dyke."

"I'm not a dyke," I said heatedly. I swallowed hard, pride making me stand straighter, lifting my head high. I mustered my best sneer. "Just because I'm dating a girl doesn't mean I'm a dyke. And even if it does, I don't care. Your opinion is nothing to me."

"You're a fucking lesbo, Quinn. That's disgusting." But his tone was lighter, more even. He really didn't want to fuck things up when money was hanging on the line, did he? "Besides, what can she do for you? Hold your hand when you cry over a chick flick? You need a man." He grinned. "I can give you things she can't."

Anger bubbled within me. "You're disgusting, Dayton. And I happen to be happier with her after two weeks of dating than months of dating you._ She_ can give me things _you_ can't."

He got that condescending look in his eyes, the one adults get when they think they know better than you do. I gritted my teeth. I hated those looks. "You're referring to the poor farm girl?" His tone was sardonic.

"She is not a poor farm girl! She lives in the city, New York, actually."

"Either way, she's just a girl, Quinn. I'm a man." He took my hand, placed it at the fork between his legs. He grinned.

I yanked my hand away and took a step back, glaring at him. Never date a rich guy. They're all ridiculously immature, and their ego is bigger than the entire Asian population. "Get out."

"No, Quinn. I love you."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Anyone could've heard how flat and unbelievable those words were. "Get out of my house, now."

He moved toward me again, his hands reaching beseechingly. "Please. We can work this out."

"You cheated on me, didn't you?" I scoffed when he froze, his eyes widening. "How _not _surprising. You can't keep it in your pants for even one month apart."

His expression darkened. "Now, I tried—"

I waved his excuses away. "You tried to be faithful, you tried to be loving, but I was never there to satisfy you, blah blah blah. Shove it up your ass, and get the hell out of my house."

"I'm not leaving until—"

"You _are_," I said forcefully, my eyes flashing dangerously. "Now, before I sic the dogs on you. Get _out._" I advanced and he began to finally gravitate toward the door.

"I just—"

"GET OUT!" I yelled, and slammed the door behind him, nearly hitting his fat head with it.

Furious, I spun on my heel and stomped straight up the stairs and into a steaming hot shower. This was when I hated how I was constantly home alone. My fucking crazy ex-boyfriend, just strolling into my house when no one was here. Then me, alone with him. That's creepy. I considered calling Lena and asking her to come hang out with me. I hadn't seen her in a couple days, since she and her boyfriend went on a double date with Santana and I. It had been fun, besides him goggling everytime Santana and I kissed. I was pretty sure he'd gotten a hard-on at the restaurant, watching when Santana playfully bit my ear after I put salt in her drink. But it was late, and she would probably be asleep by now.

Fifteen minutes later, I felt better. Showers always relaxed me. I went to get my hairbrush from my purse when I realized I'd left it at Santana's. I went downstairs, completely naked (one good thing about an always empty house, I guess), to get my phone to call her, and nearly had a heart attack when someone jumped from the shadows and wrapped his arms around me.

"Now, I know you don't have dogs. And I've given you twenty minutes to think about it. Please give us a chance, Quinn. I'm worth it."

Before I could find breath to scream with, Dayton's mouth was covering mine. Desperate to get away from him, I plunged my hands into his hair and yanked, attempting to push him back, but he was a twenty-one year old adult male and I was just a seventeen-year-old girl. For all the good it did, he thought I was just responding to him by doing such a thing. Furious, I opened her mouth and, quite simply, bit down into his lower lip as hard as I could.

"Fuck!" He stumbled back from me, half crying out. I quickly backtracked, shaking the towel off my head and wrapping it around my body as best I could before I flipped on the light-switch. Dayton stood there, a hand to his bleeding lip, looking at me in disbelief.

Without a word, he turned and fled the house.

I stood there, my chest heaving. Water dripped off me onto the kitchen tile. Panic had given me a strong kick in the stomach, and I felt sick. I couldn't believe what had just happened. That had been a step away from sexual assault.

Suddenly I was overcome with the urge to go to Santana. She would make me feel better. She always did. I swiftly dressed and left the house.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Just so you guys know, if ya want to follow me on Tumblr, my url is DreamsAreMyWords.**

**As always, thanks to my wonderful readers, I seriously love you guys :3**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 26**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

_Quinn had cheated on me. Quinn had cheated on me. Oh my God, she'd cheated on me._

I felt numb as I buried my face in my hands, propping my forehead against the steering wheel. I'd been sitting like that in this truck for the past ten minutes, parked in the driveway of Kurt's aunt's house. I couldn't make myself move. All I could do was think about what I'd seen at Quinn's house.

She lied. Everything she said, about being a virgin and wanting to wait for the right person—how _I _might have been that person, was all a lie. I'd _seen _her. I'd imagined her naked before, but, God, not naked and wrapped up in her ex-boyfriend. There was no way she could deny it, either. I had watched her grab his hair, had watched her open her mouth and kiss him back. She'd lied three weeks ago when she told me she was over Dayton. She had _lied._

There was suddenly a tapping on the truck window. Surprised, I looked up to see Quinn's elder sister Frannie peering down at me in the looming darkness. She gave me a sweet, tentative smile and motioned for me to roll the window down. Instead, I got out of the truck.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I slammed the door shut behind me.

"I left my scarf when we were working." She looked at me sympathetically. "Quinn?" she guessed.

I frowned, sticking my hands into my jacket pockets. "How did you know?"

Absently, Frannie stroked a hand along the side of the truck. "Quinn has an unfortunate tendency to break hearts." She angled her head, her hazel eyes serious on mine. "Didn't she mention it?"

I scowled down at the ground. "She didn't mention a lot of things," I mumbled.

"Come on." Frannie moved forward, looping her arm through mine and steering me toward the house. "I'll fix you a nice cup of tea."

"We don't have any tea," I said half-heartedly as Frannie dragged me into the house.

"Water, then. Go sit down, rest your feet." When I didn't move, she clapped her hands together impatiently. "Go!"

I was a little confused as I went into the half-fixed living room and sat down. I didn't know what to think. Either Quinn was full of shit, or Frannie was. Right now, Quinn was looking bad. My stomach hurt just thinking of her. My mood black, I glared down at the glass of water I held in my hands as Frannie eased down onto the couch beside me.

"So what did she do this time?" When I didn't answer, she added, "Was it Dayton?"

Stonily, I nodded.

Frannie sighed. "That's the second time in the past year. First it was Alex Roberts. They dated for half a year," she explained. "Then she cheated on him with Dayton. And now you." She shook her head, obviously exasperated and disappointed with her sister. "She just can't seem to stay committed."

"You…know about me and Quinn?"

She smiled, though it didn't quite meet her eyes. "Just because my sister doesn't tell me anything doesn't mean I can't find them out on my own."

"Do…the rest of her family know? Does her dad know?" Despite myself, my stomach twisted painfully for Quinn. Her father was apparently an asshole, and would disown her if he knew.

Frannie laughed, and it was a light, tinkling sound, so unlike Quinn's husky laugh or happy giggle that it disconcerted me for a moment. "No. We tend to keep our lesbian tendencies as far away from our father as we can. He's not the most understanding man."

My eyes widened as my jaw went slack. "Your…lesbian…tendencies."

Frannie nodded, then shrugged. "Well, Quinn's bisexual. I'm lesbian." She smiled cooly as she took my water, brought it to her lips. She watched me over the rim of the glass as she murmured, "My preferences remain strictly on women, unlike Quinn's," before she took a sip.

"I can't…" I couldn't believe it. Pain, anger, bordering on heartbroken rage, all warred within me. "She told me she's never been with a girl." Squinting at the water Frannie handed back to me, I rotated the glass in my hands. "I didn't know Quinn was like that. And I didn't know she was a cheater."

"Oh yes. Even when we were little, Quinn always had more than one boyfriend at a time. Sometimes they'd be the ones I was dating." Frannie's expression darkened, and I had no doubt that she was telling the truth. "When we went into high school, she started experimenting with girls, too. Most of it was harmless, but it's still something you never mention to your father."

"I'm sorry," I said. I understood all too well what it felt like to have to keep something secret from a homophobic father.

Frannie gave me a tiny smile as she scooted closer to me. She lifted the glass out of my hands, set it on the coffee table. Then she leaned forward, brushed her lips across mine. Stunned, I only stared as she murmured, "It's alright. We can comfort each other." She kissed me again, lingering this time. "Wouldn't you like me to make you feel better?"

Was this seriously happening? I felt as if I'd been thrust into a horrible, ironic movie or book. What was happening? Quinn cheated on me, and now I was cheating on her—with her sister, the only person she hated?

_It would hurt her,_ I realized with a rush of loathing. I pushed away the pain I felt, embracing only the anger. I _should _hurt her. Mutely, I took Frannie's hand, intertwined our fingers.

"That's it." She kissed me deeper, manipulating my mouth with her tongue. I had an instant to hate myself for this. Then I thought of how good it felt, knowing this would hurt Quinn like she had hurt me. I felt better after that.

I cupped the back of Frannie's neck, pressed her closer. She took my other hand, teased my skin with her fingertips. Taking the hint, I lifted a hand, caressed her breast. I admitted it. I was a little desperate. In my defense, I was vulnerable. Either way, when I somehow ended up with my hands beneath Frannie's shirt, I was feeling better already.

And then I heard one long, giant F-bomber. Frannie and I broke apart to find Quinn standing in the doorway. We leapt to our feet. I knew I shouldn't feel guilty, since this was definitely sweet payback, but I still shuffled a couple of steps away from Frannie.

"Santana?" said Quinn, her voice high and faint. She was staring at me with her mouth hanging open.

I felt my anger rise as I looked at her. Her hair was still damp. _Lying whore._

"Hi, baby sister," murmured Frannie.

"Santana, what is this?" Quinn, ignoring Frannie, took a step toward me and then stopped, as though she were scared to go any farther.

"We're so fucking over, Quinn. You can go back to Dayton now, like you always wanted."

Quinn stared at me with huge eyes for a moment. "Why would I..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes locked onto her sister. She looked murderous suddenly. "You did it again. You bitch. You lied to her—"

"_You _lied," I snapped. "You said I could trust you."

"You can trust me. What are you—"

"I fucking saw you with him!" I shouted. I knew I should be quiet, knew most people were either upstairs in bed or in the barn finishing up their chores. But I couldn't help it. "I saw you with him! You were naked! How the hell do you explain that?"

Quinn's eyes were shimmering as she shook her head frantically. "That wasn't what it looked like—"

"What the hell else could it be? You're a slut!"

She stopped shaking her head. Her face hardened. "I'm not a slut. Don't you dare call me that. You have no idea what you're-"

"Shut up." I cut across her. I looked at her coldly. I couldn't believe I had trusted her. "I saw you with him. Don't even try to deny it. You can't go three weeks without whoring it up with someone? I don't—God, I can't even look at you."

"Santana, I swear, it wasn't what it looked like—"

"Save it." I held up my hand to stop her from speaking any more. "Save it for someone who cares. Because I don't anymore."

Quinn opened her mouth to say more. At that moment, Frannie moved to stand beside me, holding out her hand. I took it.

Quinn's mouth closed with an audible snap. Tears glimmered in her eyes as she shifted her gaze back onto me. "I—" she began, but stopped when her voice broke. She turned, fled back to her car. Her tires squealed as she drove away.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I had a nightmare last night.

It was weird, because she never had nightmares.

In the dream, it was chaotic. Some people have dreams that are just flashes of thought, sound, color. My dreams were usually actually very detailed, right down to a designer name on a bag or something like that. This dream seemed to be a blend. It started out with me walking down the long road to the ranch house, by myself, early in the morning. I could see the dew hanging onto the blades of grass. And then, abruptly, night fell. I remembered being confused—and then the dream changed. Suddenly I was standing in my old house—the one she'd lived at in southern Nebraska, my first house ever. I stood in the darkened halls before the kitchen, and I felt somber as I studied the fading light emanating from the little ballerina lamp perched on the coffee table beside a couch. Then my mother appeared beside me. God, I could still smell her, like vanilla and peppermint. She always smelled like that. I bent down to be eye level with me—apparently I had shrunk down to my nine year old height, and my mother gave me a sad smile. _Goodbye, _she'd said, and pulled a black hood over her pale, golden hair before turning and walking away. I could feel tears just rolling off my cheeks as I chased after her, but my feet couldn't seem to move fast enough. I watched while my mother opened the front door and turned to dust in the moonlight.

Then I had woke, covered in cold sweat, and frantically patted my face for tears before weeping.

My mother may have died eight years ago, but sometimes it felt like it had just happened yesterday. I could remember her so well. She would always brush my hair for me, and I could still feel her fingers running through it sometimes. My mother's hair had been a different shade of blonde, more pale than gold. But while I had the color of my father's hair, my eyes were from my mother. Hazel. More green than brown one day, and more brown than green another, occasionally shifting to gold when the light hit it just right. Though my mother's was a little more fixed green, we still shared the same.

I missed her so much. She had died in a car crash when I was eleven years old. She had been a good person, despite the fact that she was a little too submissive to my father, something I hadn't noticed much since I was a kid but now that I was older, I understood. I didn't agree with it, but I understood. After all, my father was an intolerable business typhoon who was now dabbling in politics as well. Last year, he had lost the election as governor of Nebraska by only a few votes. One of those was mine, considering I didn't vote for him, and although my sister was a psycho bitch, I was betting she at least had the sense not to vote for him, either.

_Frannie._

Even her name sent rage spiking through me. We had never gotten along particularly well, even when we were children, and I knew it was mostly my fault. Not directly, but because of my mother. She had preferred me, treated me as her favorite, and Frannie and I both knew it. I was the baby of the family, little Lucy Quinn Fabray, and I had definitely been treated as the spoiled princess. My father had preferred Frannie, his eldest daughter, the cunning, smart little beauty that he was assured of the fact that she would one day make money and be favored by the "people that mattered" in life, meaning people high-up in politics and business. While he was grooming her for financial success, my mother was whispering assurances in my ears that I was the most beautiful little girl in the world, and when I was a little older, together we would paw over jewelry and coo over crowns (I had dreamed of being a prom queen when I grew up). When my mother died, it had been devastating, and to be perfectly honest, I still don't think I was the one who had been most affected by it. Frannie's life had, even at the young age of thirteen, turned into a mess of unresolved resentment. Now she could never gain her mother's favor, since her mother was dead. I felt terrible about it, but had quickly gotten over it when Frannie worked even harder to actively ruin my life. She constantly stole my boyfriends, spread false rumors about me at school (such as that I was a slut, which is ironic since Frannie had always seemed to be sleeping with someone. Doubly ironic considering she was president of the celibacy club and a member of the church committee), and then even went as far as to attempt to sleep with my friends. Yes, my actual friends. She made a pass at Lena once, and I'm pretty sure she made out with Rhi on more than one occassion, although Rhi likes to deny it. Rhi wasn't into girls, but she was into attention, alcohol and threesomes. Same with Claire, only Claire was more about the attention (Claire reminded me a little like a more intelligent Brittany sometimes). Frannie wasn't into girls either, but she was into power and sex. And why stop at men, when they were so easy? Frannie would sleep her way to the top no matter who it was, whether it was a fifty year old overweight, pauchy married man or a young, innocent woman looking for a fun time. Part of the reason why I was so determined not to be into girls was because of Frannie. She fucked women like a man-whore. Casually and crudely. If Frannie was into women, I wanted no part of that; I wanted nothing in common with her, and that included our sexual preferences. But considering the fact that Santana made me wetter than any boy had ever done, it was obviously something I was going to have to get over and acknowledge. I'm probably a lesbian. Oh well. As long as my father doesn't find out (which he shouldn't, considering if Frannie tells him I am, I'll tell him that she's been with tons of girls, so she would never do that), then I'm fine, I guess.

What I'm not fine with is how painful it is missing my mother, and constantly waking up from my sad dreams about her.

Here I am now, a few hours later, grooming horses. I was having one of those days where you think in a slow, sad, quiet voice. I didn't really understand the dream, which was new for me, as I always understood my dreams. I supposed it didn't technically qualify as a nightmare. But it had sure felt like one.

I didn't like thinking about my mother. I knew that by now (After all, it had been eight years) I should be comfortable with it. But I wasn't. Just a passing thought of her hurt. You know how when someone you love dies, it feels like an iron fist slamming into your belly? Well, this was like a palm. It doesn't sound as bad as the fist, but in a way, it's worse. The palm is slower, more aching, and it gives you time to think about how much it's hurting you as it pushes in on you. Add the lump in the throat, and you got yourself a painful combination.

I used to try to be positive. Then I realized there was really nothing positive to think about. My mother was dead, and she wasn't coming back. I had long ago realized the best way to avoid this type of pain was to just ignore it. Push it away, and think of something else.

I knew it wasn't healthy, but right now, I was focusing on hating Frannie. It had been a week since she'd stolen Santana away. I had already confronted her about it—she did temporarily _live _with me, after all, since she and my grandmother and cousins were staying with her—but Frannie refused to acknowledge she had anything to do with Dayton being at my house. A lie, of course. When I texted Dayton asking about Frannie, he'd ignored the message. I knew Dayton. If Frannie really hadn't had anything to do with it, then he would've texted me back mocking my stupidity. The fact that he didn't proved that Frannie had sabotaged me.

The problem was, there wasn't anything I could do about it.

Santana was happy with her. She really was. She was smiling every time I saw her, and she was always holding hands with her. I never really saw them talk, but that might be because Frannie preferred talking French (if you catch the drift). I tried to talk to Santana about ten times before I became fed up with it.

He had hurt the hell out of her. How was it that a week ago she had been holding hands with him, laughing with him when he choked on an Arby's fry, smiling at him when he brushed her hair back, kissing him in the backseat of her contour, and now there he was with Frannie, acting like everything that had happened with Quinn had never even happened.

And now here it was, the last week of July, almost finished with the house, and Santana and I were pretty much back at where we started: hating each other.

"Heya, Lady F," Puck greeted me as he walked past me carrying a small bale of hay in his arms.

"Oh. Hi, Puck." I quickly resumed the grooming of Beast, a black stallion that was almost frighteningly large. I was surprised when Puck dropped the hay and stood beside me, picking up a brush and beginning to groom the horse's flank.

"So have you, uh...talked to Santana?" he said in a low voice.

I took his cue and spoke equally quiet. "I tried. She doesn't listen."

"She mentioned something about you...having sex with your ex." Puck avoided my eyes.

"I did not have sex with Dayton! I'm a virgin, for God's sake!" I whispered in outrage, throwing my hands up.

"You're a virgin?" said Puck in mild surprise. "That's hot."

I shook the sting away, and the obvious way it had struck his interest and turned him on. "Look, I promise, Puck. Nothing happened between me and Dayton."

"Then how do you explain being naked with him? Santana said that she drove to your house and saw you two through the window."

"I was _arguing _with him."

"Naked?"

"He caught me after a shower!" I snapped, bristling up.

Puck didn't appear to believe me. My hopes deflated. If I couldn't even convince Puck, the brainless meathead, there was no way I could convince Santana.

"Just talk to her, Quinn." Puck told me as he set down the brush, retrieved the hay and began to back away. "She deserves that much."

I resisted throwing down the brush in frustration. I _couldn't _talk to her. Why didn't anybody understand that?


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I was determined to never talk to Quinn again.

I was not a vindictive, petty person. Okay, maybe I could be on occasion, but since I had been living on my own in New York, I had really matured. But this was different. I had really liked Quinn. The way I felt with her felt different.

It was almost August. Just seven more days. Seven more days, and I would probably never see Quinn again... Actually, maybe less than seven days. Matt said the house would be finished within five. That gave me an odd sense of dread. I wasn't exactly admitting it to myself, but I didn't want to leave things the way they were with Quinn. It just felt...wrong. But what else could I do? She'd hurt me. I couldn't face it again.

Turned out I would have to.

As I was walking to the barn, Quinn ambushed me. Unfortunately, Frannie was back at the house. Quinn refused to come near me when Frannie was with me, which was generally why I made sure to be figuratively glued to Frannie's hip.

"I want to talk to you." She fisted her hands on her hips, steely determination in her hazel eyes.

I ignored her, turning to grab the bucket to feed the horses. I halted when she darted in front of me and I spotted the sorrowful expression on her face.

"Santana..." She reached out, extended a hand. I only stared at it. "I don't want to fight with you. But you have to believe me. Frannie will hurt you."

"Why will she hurt me?" I demanded in a cutting tone. "Why should I believe you? Why should I believe you about anything?"

"Because I care about you, damn it!" she said, frustration making her wring her hands. "I don't want to see you hurt! I know Frannie, Santana! She's the most selfish person I've ever met!"

"And you're the most selfish person I've ever met," I said harshly.

Quinn paused, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she looked at me with wide, shimmering eyes. It was a long moment before, finally, she said in a low voice, "How many times do I have to say I didn't do it? I know. I know how it looked. I should have told Dayton the whole story instead of just dumping him without reason, and that's probably why he just showed up at my house the minute he flew back in. I should've told my family I was with you, a girl. I should have done a lot of things. I've told you before that I do stupid things. But not anymore!" Passion spurred her to move forward, to grip my hand. "I'm trying now. I see things differently now. I'm _trying, _Santana," she repeated, her voice straining as I shook my head, casting my eyes downward. She tugged on my hand, jolted my back to meet her gaze. "For you. I'm trying for you. I want to be with you."

"Why the fuck would you ever want to be with _me_, Quinn?" I spun around, pulling my hand out of her grip. Agitation was plain in my voice. "I have no time for your liar bullshit.'

She looked stung. "I am not a liar. I just—"

"You are." I glowered at her. "You told me before; this would never work out." I made a derisive noise. "You don't know me. You don't know what you want."

I felt my gut twist when the tears overflowed Quinn's eyes.

"I want to be with you because you make me happy," she said slowly, quietly. "Because you're the only person that challenges me. You don't take any of my shit, and I don't take any of yours. And I have fun with you. You make me…I don't know. We've only known each other for two months, but you make me happy. We can drive and I forget to turn on the radio because I love talking to you, and then when we do turn on the radio, you're the only person who makes me wish I were brave enough and strong enough to sing. I can lay with you in the grass and get you to look up at the sky with me even if there aren't any clouds. I can lay with you on my couch for hours and I don't want to get up even when my back is killing me, and you're honestly the only person I've ever wanted to…to touch me. The only person I've actively wanted to touch me, not because that's what you're supposed to do or because it'll keep me popular, but because everything in me is just…craving it. You're the first girl I've ever actually admitted out loud I wanted to be with. You're the first girl I've ever risked everything in my life just to be with. You make me smile. You let me eat my own dessert, and you don't get mad when I spray perfume in the truck and accidentally burn you in the eyes with it. You make me laugh and you make me want to get out of bed in the morning. You make me feel _happy._" She took a step back. "You're the only person I can be around where I can be myself. That was why I wanted to be with you."

I was stunned as she turned, left. I heard her car start a moment later.

Then I felt a hand, warm and soft, slithering down my arm. "'Santana," murmured Frannie. "Are you alright?"

"No," I said slowly, turning to face her. "I'm not."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Today was the last day.

The last day.

I felt...weird. I didn't know how I felt. A little lost, maybe. Everyone could tell, even Frannie. She told me I'd been acting weird all day. _No shit_, I wanted to shout at her. _You ruined my life._

Frannie and I were going to be over. I couldn't believe I had tried to hurt Quinn by dating her. It had taken Brittany and Rachel ganging up on me to realize that. I knew I must've been a real asshole if even Brittany was chiding me for "being mean to Quinn". Rachel, meanwhile, I was used to constantly getting annoying-ass lectures from. Either way, I knew they were right.

I could've just forgiven Quinn (even though I still didn't know whether or not I necessarily believed her story) and stayed with her, rather than getting with her older sister. Frannie was just a bitch who'd crashed my summer.

Why did I suddenly think this? Because I'd heard her talking on the phone to _Dayton. _Heard her murmur to him that he'd done well in going to win back Quinn. She'd heard me come in then, and quickly shut off her phone, but I had heard her. She hadn't even fought back when I cursed her out, threatened to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on her. She merely shrugged and told me she'd been about to dump me anyway. It did sting me, I admit. I was Santana Lopez. _No one_ dumped me.

All I knew was that today, I had to make things right with Quinn. I didn't think we would get back together, and I didn't know if I would want to. It felt like our time was done.

But I knew I needed to make things right.

I noticed her head upstairs at about a quarter to three, and I was a little mystified. Why would she be going upstairs, toward_ my_ bedroom? When I followed her, I saw that she had plugged her phone into a charger up there. She jumped, surprised, when I slipped into the room behind her, closing the door after me.

Her phone was playing music, lightly, whatever she'd been listening to. I could hear some woman's voice softly crooning out of the speakers.

"Santana?" she said, baffled, and then seemed to remember herself. Her face smoothed over with a cool, composed expression. "What do you want?" she said emotionlessly.

"I..." I didn't know what to say. What could I say?

To my horror, her eyes suddenly began to glimmer. All at once, she was slowly sinking down onto the bed, and her hands were trembling as she covered her face with them.

"Quinn..." I said softly, at a loss of what to say. I eased down beside her, pulled her into an embrace. I held her for a little while, feeling the trembles quaking through her body.

"Stop it," she seemed to whimper. "You're hurting me."

I looked down at her in confusion. How was I hurting her? My arms were light and gentle around her. "I'm hurting you?"

Sniffling, she quietly slid out of my embrace. "Yes."

She stood before me, and I was almost fearfully impressed that the tears hadn't overflown yet. I knew she was strong, but I had never expected that she was _that _strong. "I'm sorry, Santana, but I can't. I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Do this." She made a vague gesture toward me. "I can't handle it. I don't want to see you anymore. I'm sorry."

"I was out of line," I said desperately, rising to my feet. I changed my mind; what had my idiot ass been thinking? I wanted to get back with her. I _needed _to get back with her. "Quinn, I—"

"Stop," she said, and it was so soft that I did stop.

I would never forget how she looked just then, standing there before me. Her back was straight, her head was held high, her eyes glimmered, and she was the strongest person I thought I had ever seen.

It was then that I realized that what I felt for her was bigger than I thought it to be.. It was too big, too much. What I had felt for Brittany had been sweeter and more innocent than this. This feeling, it was potent and sharp and dangerous. And I made it a point not to allow myself to stray toward any feeling involving the _L word_. So in a moment of weakness in which I would always regret, I shrank away from what I felt for her

"Alright," I said.

I stared as she grabbed her phone, slipped it into the back pocket of her jean shorts and began to walk toward the door. I took her wrist, stopping her. "Take care of yourself, Q"

Her face was guarded as she looked up at me. We held eye contact for a moment before, discreetly, Quinn shrugged out of my grip. "That's what I do best," she muttered.

She took a step back. Then two steps. Regret warred with relief in my stomach. How was that even possible?

In the end, relief won.

I let Quinn leave my bedroom. I followed her downstairs at a safer distance, watched as she was buffeted by hugs and goodbyes from everyone. Kurt, Burt and Tommy all were good-natured and friendly as they hugged her goodbye. Kurt's cousins were sweet; young Brice was crying. Rachel, Tina, Mike, Puck, Finn, Sam, Brittany, Mercedes, and Blaine even looked like they were going to tear up at one point. And Matt, even cold, hard Matt, patted Quinn on the back and thanked her.

And then, I watched as Quinn Fabray walked out the front door, and out of my life.

* * *

**A/N: Hello my lovely readers, thank you all so much for your reviews; I love hearing your opinions and thoughts on this :)  
This is the last chapter of ****_My Clarity,_**** however, there will be a sequel, and it's called ****_You and I_****. :) **


	30. Chapter 30

**Hey guys, just an extra reminder. **

**The sequel to this is called You and I. **

**Thank you so much, millions of thanks, for your continued support. I love you guys! :)**

**-Dreams**


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